Dream/Nightmare I

      A windy night, while dreams float around your flushed cheeks. The owl hoots like the nightwatchman, the squirrel screaches out, probably a nightmare. A honey dew moon is smiling, at you. Your cheeks redden, the transluscent nightdress, reveals not much, conceals not less. You slowly step on the wet, cool earth. Tonight, the galactic milk bowl is overflowing, tonight is a beautiful night. The owl hoots again, begging you to wake up. The enchantment continues, you wake not up, lest you are barred to hear the lullaby. You wait for the song to start, but only the brook's monotonous lyre hurts your drowsy senses.
     A slow hum starts. The beginning. Next a gentle breakout will follow, followed by whistling chimes, ending with the slow, calm, determined sound of a sitar. You know the song by heart.
     But today the music is not sounding what it used to. The hum slowly becomes mild, thumping, clap beats, almost as if people are applausing the end of sermon in a churchyard. The music is getting loud, it's nomore the claps of the fallen, but the pounding of a million drums, war drums. You search for the source of the swivelling beats. It's not coming from the milky eyed sky, not from the lemon crusted moon, not from the spacy waters. Then where?
      It's coming from the depth of of the earth below you, it's almost like the earth is beating in million tiny hearts. The earth, which you considered to be cool, to be wet, is becoming hot. It's starting to melt into liquid red, blood red. The tumultous earth is moving away from below your feet. You try to reach for the sky, for the moon, for the rivers, but they have moved far, far away from you. What is left is the earth.
      You start to sink, and suddenly you hear a new drum beat join the hundred million drums. It's you, your heart, it's beating again. Slowly as you sink, you listen intently to the music of the new era.