Now drifting into a heavy sleep,
I'm moving but with static feet.
Higher I go through cloud and rain,
I'm drifting on the astral plane.

Over clouds, fields, rivers and streams,
Figures with ghoulish looks that scream.
Most just smile and tip their hat,
With the grace and elegance of an aristocrat.

But through this dank dark night of fear,
I still catch the voice that calls me here.
Soft yet strong it calls my name,
Leading me through this astral plane.

Now moving so fast without a sound,
I find I'm plummeting to the ground.
The ghostly figures now flashing by,
I hear myself give out a cry.

Closer and closer I move to the ground,
This voice is now the only sound.
With eyes wide open at last I see her,
My mother cries out "it's me don't fear".

© Copyright R. Shaw 2003