I slip between the sheets, so tense.
A good night’s sleep seems out of reach.
My apprehension makes no sense,
recurrent dreams cannot exist.
Yet this dark haunting comes each night.
A hound emerges from the mist,
howling and drooling, set to bite.
*
The mastiff from the fires of Hell,
seems bent on ripping me to shreds,
with fangs of steel, their purpose fell.
Its rancid breath of brimstone reeks,
name on its collar: 666.
My gruesome death the creature seeks,
ere I’m borne to river Styx.
*
This infernal beast, with eyes aflame
growling, “Terence" – it knows my name!
“Your death is nigh, your soul I claim!”
I twist and writhe, there’s no escape,
the hound prepares my life to take.
It’s jaws will crush me like a grape.
Then, suddenly, I’m wide awake.
*
Shaking, trembling, bathed in sweat,
hyperventilating, too.
I hope my mind will soon forget
the ordeal which I’ve just come through.
I feel a lick, wet on my hand.
My faithful Great Dane Scooby Two
welcomes me back from la-la land.
