Karma

Between a state of sleep and waking, your worst nightmare materializes, inches away from you. It is vivid, and sickening. The things you trust the most conspire against you, believing you blind, knocking your feet out from under you and raping that trust. Even when you rise against it, you end up in the same place you were, comforting that which you feared moments ago… only to wake the next morning and remember it as nothing more than a dream, a figment, a nightmare.
It is nothing so trite as a lesson; perhaps a sign. Whatever it is, this figment of the night is haunting, leaving no direct recourse and no memory of where you stood before it all hit you.
Somehow, though disoriented, you feel at peace. Perhaps now the worst is over.
But those words always echo in the eye of the storm…
In your mind, the shadows dance. They stretch and flail, like spindly flames, then shrink, to creep along the edges and slip through the cracks. What it might be. What it looked like. What they said it was, and how it shouldn’t have been. It tears at you.
So why does the calm remain?
It cannot be the resolution of knowing what comes next, for there is no way to know what must be done. It cannot be the comfort of justification, for the trust still lays broken at your feet. The only question which can be answered remains as such: who is left with the upper hand?