I dread the time I have to sleep.
Every night, it's the smae nightmare.
It starts with me as a child.
I'm standing in my great grandmother's living room.
With wide eyes, I stare into the dark dining room.
There is nothing there except for the marble end table.
I take one step in to the dining room, my breathing shallow.
A figure emerges from the darkness.
Red eyes stare into my eyes, into my soul.
Everything around the eyes dissolves.
I hear a dark an evil laugh.
When this dark and sinister sound reaches me,
I am sitting bolt up right in my bed,
sweating and gasping for air.
I dread the time I have to go to sleep,
for fear this night mare may take the life from me.