Hellish Dreams

Last night I slept like Hell, and dreamt of many things.

Of unending houses in a row and flying without wings.


Of passing beauties in the night, their eyes as bright as stars.

And treachery abounding, on landscapes as alien as Mars.  

I dreamt of problems unending, in convoluting procession.

Until I ached to break free, to end my endless obsession.

Sometimes in a wheelchair, and sometimes walking.   

I wandered all over the place, my destination balking.

Until the time in a dream, when I'm not heard for mocking,

Hell reaches a fever pitch, and the door opens without knocking.

I am awake, with a headache, still alive and talking.

Copyright 2001 © Ronald W. Hull




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