Key West, spring/summer 1994

He is such a restless sleeper.
He is plagued with recurring nightmares.
He is a hypochondriac, too.
I lay my hands on him at night, while he sleeps, in an attempt to heal him, or at least, ease some of the chaos that invades his sleep.

His sleeping body relaxes a bit, if only for the awareness of my, or another’s presence.
But the terrors never fully go away.
His tossing and turning, his sub-conscious fears, concern me.
I can do nothing for him in this realm of his existence.