for years

for years i wandered in a wilderness of my own creation.

today i happened upon a village full of people. their clothing was ordinary, their labors mundane, the food they shared simple.

"do you have a hospital for drunken madmen?" i asked with blistered lips.

"we do not know what any of those words mean," they replied with shy politeness.

i arose in a cloud of wrath. "get away from me, ye accursed!" i screamed. then, i shook the dust from my sandals and walked on into the desert of my own hopeless, deluded mind.

silently, in single file, they followed me, to the last soul among them.

when i awakened, i wrote the dream down, and noticed that my pillow was full of sand.