Introspective storm

Last night,
the rain drummed a lullaby
sending the world to sleep.
~
I will admit
that I did not desire
exit from this conscious world
and only relinquished my grasp therein
after an arduous journey
entangling myself
in something like dreams.
~
He says he is alive and well.
That they are treating him excellently.
But I notice the script,
hidden behind the newspaper,
that is verification for the date:
September 14, 2009.
They want something.
They are using him
as the salt in our wounds.
~
My dreams are innocent and frightening
I meet people with whom I have only ever spoken
and I know them as they are.
The weather is grey, rainy,
introspective.
We are in Boston
but it looks like Chicago,
and there are patrol boats in the river
that borders the college stadium,
almost like SeaWorld,
where we have gathered to watch the game
on two huge television sets.
I am with a friend who left in August,
and I see her,
without a difference discernible between then and now.
And I am so confused about why we are at a football game,
and why there are patrol boats,
white, zooming through the water,
soaking bystanders in their wake,
and Why there is woman's voice from above
calmly repeating
"Do not panic, this is only a test,
Please, continue to watch the game."
~
Upon awakening,
I pause for a moment before I comprehend the rain.
These droplets have fallen, relentless,
for hours,
barely brushing the consciousness
of the nightmared,
sleeping world.