I am paving hell with energy

Its been a strange week, of course, but I only mean by my dreams. They churn up my day and by the end of it a warm glass of thick remorse is the only way I can get to sleep.

One night- My brother is killing my family. We are in our old house, back to the swing set, the drug dealer neighbors, the bamboo forest feelings that make up my memories of my childhood home. The glossy new floors, the wood paneled wall. The window into the room that glowed so bright with the late afternoon sun. He is hiding, trying to show us his innocence. But who else could it be? Little sister is dead. Who is next?
The time the basement flooded so much that kitty's kibble bowl floated by my thighs submerged in water. I feared of the ghosts the water might release from the crawlspace, swimming in the crust and toys. Hungry for little girls and boys. Wet legs and eyes.
I will never forget this fear.
But the memories are fading. and this one was harder to recover.

Another night, collapsing stairs.
Another night, something beautiful, but ain't that a bitch. I can't remember a single thing.

Another night, sex. I was trying on clothes in my bedroom, not the same room, but the conceived space, although different. More secret and confined. Someone sat stretched on the bed, patiently observing with his eyes but clear tension drove deep into his body, and mine. An innocent thing at first. We even may have agreed that I would change shirts, and then we would continue to go wherever we were going. But I pulled off my top with tantalizingly slow movements, adding unnecessary caresses across my belly, around my bare shoulders. He may have shivered just then. Oh, my heart ... but I advanced. I remember feeling sexy as all hell in dreams, sometimes. My skin feels like sex alone, and now the fact that it was close, warm and available to him egged me on... to turn my neck slow, fingers through my hair, adjusting the only piece of clothing that would turn the moment in a second to a something completely different. I consider the idea, but he shivers again and my skin still feels like sex, why ruin the fun now?
Jeans slide down my thighs, and the room feels warmer. It even feels smaller now, like I am in between his stretched out legs, leaning against his panting chest with the curve of my back, arching so he could reach around my hips to help me out of this denim stop sign. He shivers for the last time. He pulls me around to face him and the dream is over.

The dream is over.
I must say it again.
The dream is over.
so why does my skin still feel like sex. dangerous sex.

Ohhh my dreams. I am not the same person as I used to be.