waking and sleeping

Somewhere in my life... I fell asleep. A very deep deep sleep that I cannot wake up from. In my dreams I must be a painter but my dreams are not the ones I would have painted. The characters are of my choosing, but the lines ... some of them are all wrong. They travel in spirals and quick elbows that I just would never draw. I take careful strokes and never mix up colors into an ugly mess. Yet in my dreams, the paintings start beautiful until someone splashes them with black muck. Never is there a gentle portrait with kindness on faces bright. Tears streak the paintings that were pretty. Nightmares make my teeth and fists clench. I startle, but keep dreaming on. I would like to be woken up now. To gather the canvas and put an iron to it. Splash it with thinner and begin anew. I keep shaking myself... but I cannot wake more than I am.