A Dream.

Sometimes, I have a dream that frightens other dreams away. I won't call it a nightmare, because it's intent is not to scare; rather, to awe. I dream of a giant, calm sea expanding to all points of the horizon. There is no shore in sight, no moon, no stars, just a black sky against a black pool. It is silent all around, but there is an ominous presence underneath the dark waves. Quietly cutting through the black void, a hulking leviathan treks through the darkness. A shark, older than the first pebbles of time, patrols the void. The ocean blackness silently gushes through his gaping mouth, glimpsing at the clockwork that comprises his ancient constitution. Its eyes gaze the dead landscape, never blinking, never hinting at any sign of remorse or apology for its grotesque construction.

I see it in my sleep and I do not shiver or turn away in fear. I watch it from afar, from the sheaths of the blackness, from the depths of my unconsciousness. I watch its glass eyes scan the perimeter, and I wonder if it sees me. I wonder if it sees the black blood beating through my heart.