Wingword Poetry Prize 2020 is now open. Submit your poems today!

This Isn’t A Dream

Muntazir

Curled up and unable to move
But that’s not how I remember myself
I can hear the rhythmic sound of the water hitting the shed out my window
But the sounds are fading out now
I remember putting myself to bed
I still feel the pillow holding my head in place
But I cannot place myself in this room
I remember leaving the television on
But it’s dark in here now
Probably if I turned over and switched on the light I’d know I’m still real and here
But this room suddenly feels smaller
There isn’t enough air to breathe
Like someone curled me up and contained me inside an inverted glass
If only someone could lift the glass
Just a little
To let in some air
I take deep breaths but it’s just clouding the walls of the glass around me
I shouldn’t have lit that last cigarette
I’m choking on the smoke now
But I was awake just a few moments ago
I can hear my neighbours’ feet stomping upstairs
This is has to be my room, I’m not dreaming
Or probably it’s just someone tapping on the bottom of the glass
I can hear it raining in the distance still
But around me is this awful noise of my lungs giving out
I’m not sure if this is a dream
All this pain from crouching and the struggle to gasp for air is too real
I have known this
I cannot escape this dream even if I woke up
This isn’t a dream even though I’m sleeping


Leave a comment