Another dream of chasing shadows.

Last night I saw him again, Dark. He followed me through the spring meadow that I had built the night before. The hours of light should have kept him out of my lucid maze. But then he would always flung his breath around my neck, my mouth biting the air as I ran tiptoed across the thick soft soil of the meadow.

I slipped through the mud and started falling, my face battered against the mud was falling with me too. I landed on skin. I tried to swim across the depths of his palms but on every movement of my body, a twirl of perfect stillness kept dragging me down.

The smell was charged with the burning rustle of a willow that wallowed louder each time I dropped focus and gave into him. His hands had embalmed my mouth, drawing me inside the seductive shallows of his river. When Morning had come, she had chased him away. But then he would always come back at night, famished and flustered, and I would always have to feed him with dreams of the past.

I wanted a change of dream. I wanted to forget who he was, I wanted to dance with who he used to be, blow my head away into the wind of the night. But then he would always wrap himself around my dancing arms and legs, stopping me.

Losing last night's breath, I threw stones at his eyes so that I could gasp in the blind goodbye kiss from him. I woke up dancing with the Wind. Dark’s willow eyes were watching Wind and I sailing on to the howling ballads of the leaves, while he slowly dissolved into the liquid morning.