Ottawa's Festival of Ideas Since 1997


My eyes slowly drift close
My body gets hot
Sweat drips down my face
I am drenched with dread
Its dark body looms over me
It says I’m going to die
Its long fingers grasp on to my face

It slowly squeezes all the life out of me

I try to scream but there is no sound
Suddenly a burst of light hits me in the face
I want to hit it back but my arms are bound to a soft surface

It was only a nightmare