By: Jason D. DeHart

Last night, I dreamed of death –
not in some dramatic or kaleidoscopic
way, but in a manner I could not see.
We were traveling, the family and I,
when we somehow got word, so I went
to see, pushing open the creaking door
and the strange visage, a glowing ember,
told me not to worry, that the new place
was much better than the old one.
When I woke, I was told by a pseudo-
Freudian analyst that this was my method
of self-soothing. As if my mind offered
the rest of my condition a portion of salve,
a small late night comfort.

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You can find more about the author at http://jasondehartjustliving.blogspot.com/