Rhetorical Angel

Sleep eludes me yet again, but I feel exhausted.

Moon appears tarnished, yellow instead of the brilliant silver I saw ages ago.

It is quiet, except for a few cars that occasionally passing by. Here, it is cold. Bitterly cold and a stray cat seeks shelter with me. I cannot offer you anything, cat. But I'll gladly share my cover so you'll be warm.

I feel like I need to do this often, Others are mostly asleep, and the silence is comforting in a mysterious way. I feel like I can finally hear my own thoughts, instead of them bursting through my mind and forcing their way inside.

This bitter cold, the darkness that hides a few things from my eyes, the soft glow of the fluorescent bulb, all seem so distant. I want to take a walk away from home but it is as if I am anchored here. It is as if there's something I have to do here.

There's the familiar pain again, inside my chest. Like before, I know it is purely psychological. I won't need a doctor to diagnose me again. There's no immediate cure; I can only wait until it wanes. I feel so helpless.

'Look after me like I look after you.'

Why is the angel weeping? I cannot understand you anymore. Why be in my dreams when you don't even want to tell me what is wrong? The angel who is trapped here on the unhallowed ground, of all places why chose my dreams?

I am not complaining, though. I know I can drive you away anytime, but I also know that anyone would need a place where they can just rest without being questioned why. So you can stay. Do not worry.

Do we even talk? I don't know. All those conversations are in my dreams, so they might be coming from me alone. Perhaps I just imagined them all and is disillusioned that I am talking to something that understands and is imaginary.

My sleep was cut short, and I had to leave you. I am sorry. Next time, I will still be able to see you. That's the benefit of a lucid dreamer. I can often control the flow. All I ask in return is to help me out when I am caught in sleep paralysis. Be the light when I cannot see, and be the warmth when I feel cold.

Are you even an angel? I know you are, because I imagined you to be one. Maybe you are just a figment of memory. That would explain why you don't react to me after all. Maybe you are incomplete. Who do you take after? An old friend of mine? I cannot recall seeing such a face. Why are you sad? Is the fact that you are incomplete troubles you? Maybe you know that you are not real, and cannot accept it. I cannot make you go to my world, but I can let you stay here, as long as you want.

I need to meet you again, but I do not want to rely on medicines anymore. So just wait for a while.

I shall sleep again, and I'll see you soon.