Half asleep, half crazed.

Dream you're sleeping, inner eyelids lit through by moonlight, by streetlights through the window. Blood vessels projected to your pupils, rods and cones going crazy with the hidden redness of it all.

Dream I'm sleeping, let my eyes close, beat my brain solidly into submission. Those sounds of discontent rattle between my ears discussing class war and paranoia, but mostly the crippling and horrible fear of my own power to fail and fail again. They caterwaul against the fine bones in my inner ears, against the backs of my dull, torpid eyes and it's all I can do to keep breathing over the deadend nature of this kind of wakefulness.

Dream we're sleeping, I'm laying my hand across your closed eyes, blocking out the glow, floating you into velvet darkness. You're cradling me and breathing in my ear to quiet my mischievous brain; it's a nice gesture but unnecessary since sleeping with your company is all I need to know that there's nothing to be afraid of at all.