Prison Invisible

I knew it was only a dream.

That's all I am after all, a lonely dreamer, afloat in a sea of tranquility. They thought I was crazy, but it doesn't matter. I made them in my mind, made them up. I breathed life into them, every one. The mailman, the lonely collegiate girl, the elderly woman who set aside a portion of her meager income to pay for birdseed . . .

They are mine.

They would argue, have tried to argue with me, but how can you argue with a dreamer? Speak not to me; I am only a corpse in this world. I am only a corpse to this world. That is why I am here, in this morgue of men.

How I got here I do not know, that part of this dream is vague and difficult to remember. My mind is clouded and filled to bursting, bursting like a can of beans dropped carelessly in the path of an oncoming train.

There are other corpses here . . . I can sense them. Some of them live with me, even after death they live. I am pleased that this is only a dream, for when I live I may control my fate, but in my dreams I am powerless, powerless in this prison invisible.