Sometimes my dreams would come alive and swallow me whole.  At those times I don’t know what to do with myself. 

Fear is overwhelming.  Consciousness is overwhelming.  Wakefulness is a nightmare.

Such periods would take over when I am under a despicable amount of stress.  Dreams are not always flowy and serene.  They can be beautifully frightening.  

When I was a kid I had a recurring dream which shook me into fear and fevers, I would wake up soaked in sweat and heat.  Night creatures would chase in me in my bed and bury me in their bellies.  

In Old Vienna I found myself in a series of paintings, hopping from one movement into another.  Then I would flash across time into the body of Joan of Arc bending a knee in front of a tower, leaning on her sword.  I would hear our ancestors, both natives and conquerors, call out to me across the heavens.  

Sometimes I would float in the darkness of space, far from earth and planets, feeling the iciness of isolation as the cold universe expands and the stars extinguish. 

I try to fold myself into a ball in the fetal position, to make myself small, but the dream will swallow me whole as I have mentioned before.  There’s no escape from something as vast as the universe.