It was only just a dream, as far as I remembered.

Suspended between two worlds, trapped in a limbo in which the body was a silent prisoner. Lying there, aware of every detail of the room around you, but with an oppressive weight pressing down on the bed, as if invisible hands were holding.

Breathing?

In this state, darkness took shape. Indistinct figures crept to the edges of what I imagined seeing, shadows seeming to move as smoke choked that question about breathing. Fear crept like a snake, slithering through the mind, feeding and fueled by helplessness. Every effort to move a finger, to scream, was futile; mute in a prison of motionless, no longer functioning flesh.

But then, suddenly, like shattering glass, the darkness was torn apart.

I had not yet regained my perception of the space around, my heavy eyes struggled to open wide after yet another night; the distorted, pressing emptiness due to the end of glimpses beyond the known planet, reigned.

Shapeless masses of light were only part of what remained of an awakening, perhaps questionable by experienced psychiatrists.

Pieces of parts of the unconscious reentered and exited orbits,

from imagined explosions,

perhaps.

The sweat was cold, but I was dripping, still unable to open my eyelids now glued and forced tightly shut, just for that spectacle of stars or memories.

What were memories, shown in images, imaginary... in the dream, each smile could change in appearance until reduced to the masses that still occupied the capacity to exist, in the material. Faces changing and melting, into other faces, without interrupting the mass of darkness and hilarity around, as the pressure on the chest increased without wanting to leave a, miserable, breath.