In my worst, most horrid dreams
I have lost my way, it seems.
What might be the loathsome force
That continues to follow me?

My heart beats ever so fast,
Something is stalking my path
And, oh how I want to rush,
But my feet are stuck in mush.

In my most favorite dream,
I am flying without wings.
I glide with my arms extended
As high, as fast, joy unended.

My body is cooled by the gusts
That unleashes my unlimited zest.
Surprising, as, when awaken
I always feared great highness.