Awake In A Sleeping World

     The definition of a nightmare is an evil spirit sent to strangle a person in their dreams. Well, this is the old definition, one my neoteric mind cannot and will not accept. There is no such thing as a nightmare.
     It all began in the darkness as I shut my sleep laden eyes and surrendered to the milky ebony of night, blacker than the blackest crow. I slipped away, away into a muddled confusion that I would never wake from.
     I stood in a cavern, hollowed and empty like the carcass of a long dead giant whose leathery skin has worn away and life and breath has deserted to leave only the skeletal remains of the beast behind, a sad reminder that that all things must die. The faint trickling of water was all that shattered the endless silence, timidly echoing in the monstrous shell beneath the earth. I shuddered as I took as step forward, a mad cacophony sounding in the gloom from the movement.
     How I knew where to go I am not certain. I could not see but for a crack gaping in the roof of the cavern, permitting sparse moonlight to slip in like a quiet thief and break the complete darkness to reveal the secrets of the great cavern's innards. Jagged stalactites and stalagmites reached out to each other like sharp, vicious fangs, dripping water like the crimson blood of prey in a steady rhythm, never ceasing like the infinite tick of an energetic clock.
     My arm brushed against the cavern wall and sent a cold chill running down the length of my spine like an electric current, igniting every nerve in my body. The rock was slick like glass, its rugged surface worn from ages of damp and dark. I shied away, keeping my arms tucked in tight to my sides, not wanting to feel the alien surface on my skin, an unwelcome reminder of the unknown which surrounded me, encompassed me, consumed me.
     The tenebrous nature of the cavern was altogether unnerving. The features of the earthen hollow were impossible to discern for the blanket of unsettling darkness, an opaque veil of the likes I had never before experienced. It was almost mesmerizing and the fact that I found it so terrified me. The sliver of precious moonlight was fading as I moved forward, further abandoning me in this foreign world, plunging me deeper into a universe of shadows.
     It would seem that I would have been reluctant to go on, revolted, even, by the sheer thought of it, but, on the contrary, I wanted nothing more. I was driven by some primal instinct, some prideful possession that I could not begin to ignore or, worse, deny. I longed to walk in those dark, empty corridors. I craved those damp, hollow spaces and the sounds of water dancing down the walls of weathered rock. I hungered to reach the end of the cavern, to solve the riddle this enigmatic journey. It drove me to madness.
     Each night I shut my eyes and find myself in the cavern. Each night it calls to me, this starving curiosity, and I feed it, but it is never satiated. Instead, it grows with each step, each breath, fogging before my pallid face in the moonlit cavern. I cannot please this violent curiosity because I can never reach the end.
     Whether the cavern is infinite or not I cannot say, nor can I fully understand its true nature. All I know is this cavern of my dreams, of my nightmares, is as real as anything I have ever experienced in the waking world. No, it has become my world. It is my focus. It is my life. Each night I go there and continue the journey and wonder if it will ever end. But, some primitive part of me, some part of my being so fundamentally wild, doesn't ever want to leave this cold, dead cavern.
     The dreams are so tangible, so realistic, that I now question which of my two realities is true. In which do I exist? I am troubled as this old world fades and the world of the cavern becomes my new existence, but part of me is delighted. This part of me which horrifies me so is filled with joy. It leaves me haunted, empty as the cavern itself. I cannot understand. Am I awake in a sleeping world, or am I the one who's dreaming?