Agrypnia.

I am a dream collector. 

I harbour them in tiny crystal basins, so vitreous and still equally stout. They scintillate in the darkness like wavering stars, dittoing fluttering eyes of heaven. For our minds comprise miscellanies so exquisitely gruesome and yet so tantalizing, one inevitably feels the urge to dash into their never-ending pivot of transient heartbeats. Have you ever listened closely? Have you ever defied fear and opened your mind to such ethereal melody? It entwines grief and joy in a woven maze of enticement, hence trapping us like flies to a spider web, blissful and terrified. I fizz in dismay, though my croon subsumes a sheer inviting whisper. The oomph of fear sends forth waves of faith I grasp with all my might. And they pull me away from that syrupy, glutinous net, and my eyes open like blooming petals as reality shakes me and shatters my crystal basins into silvery raindrops of mangled dreams. Dreams I quickly redeem and mend in a delusion where hope and endurance caress and comfort my aching self. For I am a fighter. I am a champion. I am a victor. 

I am a dream collector.

Addah Monoceros.