Untitled

Last night I had a dream.
I dreamt I walked down a long corridor
further than eyes could see or ears could hear
and as I walked I realized
I was not alone.

Around me in the darkness stood a million solid figures
with a million solemn faces;
every person I had ever known or met
standing in lines to infinity
on either side of my bare shoulders.

As I walked my eyes adjusted to the dark
and I noticed each person, though unmoving,
seemed always to face me with eyes that prickled my pale, naked skin,
seeing deep beneath the surface,
into me and even through me.

I noticed then that each person held a single object
clasped in white-knuckled hands
and pointed straight at me
held aloft in judgment in the shrill, piercing silence.
I tried to focus.

A teacher held the test I cheated on as a 10 year old.
My brother held a guitar with missing e string.
An ex-lover gripped a bloody heart in her fist.
A cousin held a dead bird, a bullet hole in its' chest.
Frightened, I began to run.

My footsteps made no impact on the deathly silence.
The invisible ground was cold on my lonesome feet
as I passed by the people of my past,
the curator of a strange museum,
with exhibits more disturbing than wax figures.

As I ran I glimpsed you from the corner of my eye.
I skidded to a halt, slipped and crashed to the ground.
I scrambled to my feet, eyes searching for you frantically
until I found you in the line,
one amongst the millions.

Carefully, I approached
struggling to see what was held in your hands.
As I came closer you held it up before me
A mirror shrouded in white light
and I was unsure whether or not to be afraid.