beginning of a story

a pale, white face appeared looming over my bedside. Like porcelain, but strong, sharp and dangerous; intelligent in wicked features, powerful in ferocity, my queen.

'I am not afraid of you,' it breathed. Moon sparkles and dust fell like feathers from the shelf of her bottom lip, daintily piercing the aura, her presence swam all around with violet glitter, star shine, violence in beauty and atmosphere of fearlessness; she had consumed me, and I was bound with shackles of a warrior's trust.

'Can I keep you safe?' I begged, on a verge of death only those with a loss of the 'self' knew. A desire charged by thunder and absence, I plead quietly and invisible. A subconscious train of words chanted and raced around my brain, 'Keep her somewhere safe. Keep her somewhere safe. Keep her somewhere safe ...'

The face was familiar and distant in my memory, simultaneously existing as an enigma I didn't know was real or not, for only my strongest days vowed the truth of her existence.
She was the cool tempo of my inner heart beat, she was the breathy expression of my safety, she was me, unafraid.
♠ ♠ ♠
I just imagined a real me, taking on the surreal image of Dali's famous face in dreamland. A magical me, unafraid of my fears, my death. Someday, she'll come out again.