I dreamed about the dark man again last night. He was
partially hidden, inky black. He moved with a swift, silent grace. When I
woke, I ran my hands over the warm sheets, listening to the rain rattle
against the bedroom window like claws tapping the glass.
My dreams have intensified since I started to spend
more time at the pond. I carry them into the daylight like a song in the
back of my mind. Last night I went to the pond after work and faded in and
out of sleep. I stretched out on the rock in the tantalizing warmth and let
my mind flow. A dark shadow crossed my face. I opened my eyes and glimpsed
the cormorant passing overhead.
Last night I dreamt I was asleep at the pond. A large
shadow separated from the trees and moved along the grass. Dark eyes
studied me. The eyes narrowed, considering. I shivered and shifted on the
rock. The dark shape halted. When my breathing steadied and my body
stilled, the black figure slipped silently closer, barely disturbing the
tall grass and
I dreamed I was in a white marble church, seeking
sanctuary. No one answered my calls. Indescribable terrors besieged the
heavy brass doors. Thump! Thump! The doors burst inward. An ebony fanged
animal lunged through. I screamed. Then I woke up. I found a thick dark
hair on my pillow. What does it mean?