A room in my dreams

There's a room in my dreams

where I keep my hopes and fears.

They come into consciousness

through whimsy or through experiences

too imperceptible from reality,

experiences that are underlined

by feelings I'm not able to know.

These dreams keep me from rest,

a locked chest in this room

that I must pick every time

I seek peace, serenity.

Sometimes the chest is left unlocked,

the being that seeks to thwart me

easing in its restlessness,

granting me respite.

But always it returns,

unsettled by the days I have,

my travails and burdens

that I constantly accumulate.

So I linger outside the door
even though I yearn
for the contents sealed inside.
For the fear overflowing
seeps out under the door gap
flooding onto the carpet
getting my shoes wet.
Hopes stained, adulterated,
its call for calmness, quietude
heeded only in desperation.