last night i took every pillow out of every room in the house. red, pastel pink, Mayan ruin designs, bird and white, off white; every shade and tone and essence of white; stacked high around my bed. the fort became a castle. a hiding spot to a lookout tower. at night it gets lonely up there but seeing everything down below is reassuring. even if it all a dream. dreams are real. life is just sequences of dreams so random and jaunted that it seems perfectly normal. the specks of light give me hope. love is being shared, the shriek of the apocalyptic bells is only a faint howl now. carried by the wind to the top of the tower it has no strength.