The space between my knees grows tighter

I can't breathe

I can't breathe at all

It's the end of the month again

And again the sandman comes to my doorstep

To deliver wicked horrors like he did last month

A cruel abuse of the sandman's job and his paintbrush

He paints images I begged to forget or at least pushed away

Apparently I haven't been pushing enough because the sandman is back

Swirling his brush in the cup of paint-water filled with my worst fears

This morning I couldn't breathe

My stomach in agony for some kind of food

But I'm too nauseous

I can barely finish my breakfast before I dump it in the trash

And go to my science class for the rest of the day

Once I'm home, I've still forgotten my dream

I show off my new books to add to my collection

With the tv humming in the back ground of my mind

I read in silence along with the occasional gasp

During the tense moments of the plot

Hours go by reading and the sun is set

Crisp newly fall air brushes- flows through the house

My mother sits down next to me as we eat dinner together

And watch our tv show she's still catching up on

At some point I turn my head away from the screen on the wall

Through the window I see the sandman's reflection

And I can't breathe

My hands are shaking

My palms are sweating

And I can't stop grabbing at my clothes

As if somehow tugging at my sleeves will pull me into another dimension

My leg begins bouncing and trembling

As the sandman waves his brush teasingly

Daring me to stop him

I snap back to the tv but I can't pay attention to what's going on

What's going on?

Have I already seen this episode?

My fists clenching and releasing

Then it hits me

Each individual frame of my nightmares

Each individual, hand painted scene

Flipping from one to the next like a homemade flipbook

And my mind is screaming

I want to scream at the sandman

I want to scream like hell

But instead I cross my legs

I cross my legs like a well trained- like a polite young woman

My knees will no doubt be of any use after this

My joints will go bad from overuse, from clenching them

The static in my head is becoming fuzzy with each breath

I've never fainted before but I'm beginning to wonder

If that's where this is headed

When I stand, I keep my legs together

I take small steps

I walk like Morticia Addams in her tight dresses

One small step at a time

But everything is beginning to feel small

Voices from the other room are too loud

My cuddly cat is too close and her playful scratching on the scratching post is too

LOUD

I can't stop grabbing my hair

I can't stop grabbing my clothes

I can't stop grabbing my skin

I can't stop

But then again I guess you couldn't either