I swear I'll be gone in the morning, I just need somwhere warm to close my eyes

I find it kind of funny,
I find it kind of sad,
the dreams in which I’m dying
are the best I’ve ever had.

What does it mean when all of your dreams are nightmares? Some believe that dreams are our mind’s method of working out things we didn’t come to terms with during the day. Should my eyes brace themselves closed, caught between relief and regret?

The planks creak beneath me. The gravel between each board cuts into my skin; my feet are going numb. I am farther down then I thought. Everything seems closer when you are looking down. The station is quiet. None of them see me. And I understand. No one waits to see the end of a boring film, whose star falls deeper into obscurity with each turn of the reel. It’s coming. I hear it. I feel it. My legs move with the tremors. But I am calm. My eyes hang closed. My breath is easy.

It’s getting closer. Focus on the breath. Slowly: In. Out. A gentle sound as the air rubs against the throat. A mild rise the chest as the lungs press against the ribs. In. Out.

Almost here. Taste the dust in the air. Feel it scratch across the tongue. Return to the breath. Breathe correctly and all air will be pure. Feel the connection between the heart and the breath. The beat is soft. It is the metronome of the lungs.

I open my eyes. The lights get bigger. The gravel begins to shake .

I open my eyes. Lightning paints jagged lines across the wall. Thunder rattles in the distance.