In The Adjacent Room

While I sleep there is a woman who sits in the adjacent room. I am not dreaming her. She is real, perhaps more real than I am. Who am I after all? A denizen of surfaces, a temporary inhabitant of apartments, one who walks along walls for security. It would not be wise for me to claim more substance than she must embody. Why not? Because she sits in nightly vigil absorbing the Night's power. She is one who is free of fear, she is one who sings the songs of victory with perfect pitch, she is one who seek everyone's salvation. I know this because in my deep dreams an old wise man cautions me to honor all spirit-guests in the adjacent room.