And Out Come the Wolves

my dream last night… poem & story…

alone out there…
just meat… just prey…
I feed my two wolves… one red… one grey…
the fence a lie…
just meet… just pray…
away my two wolves…
one red… one gray…

I was in a backyard—
 fenced in…
 familiar…
 from childhood…

I felt younger…
 In a place
  that remembered me…

Still—
 I climbed the fence…

On the other side—
 the woods waited…
  too close for comfort…

Then the red wolf came—

Big…
Hungry…
 All teeth and motion…

No hesitation—
 just intent…

I barely made it back over the fence—
 It stopped there…
  snarling…
  growling…
  measuring the distance…

Then it faded…
 back into the trees…

Silence pressed in…

I climbed again—
 slower this time…
 Quieter…
 Tiptoeing…

The gray wolf appeared—

Not loud…
Not rushed…
 Focused…

It ran at me—
 closing the gap…

I reached the top of the fence—
 just in time…

It stood there—
 head tilted…
 eyes steady—
  as if I was already chosen…
  as if I was meat…

Then the red one came back—

Side by side now—
 watching…
 Thinking…

They didn’t jump…

They searched…

They found a hole—

The fence was a lie—

They were already in—

Now they were with me—
Nothing between us…

That’s when I woke myself up—

Enough…
 for tonight…

…….⟂→||→🌲…….<3?→x…….2W→(R)(G)…….|=|→≠…….→🤝→🙏…….↩︎2W…….R→G’…….🚶‍♂️🌙→🌲…….🥩→🎯…….🐺🐺→🔴⚪…….🚧→🪞❌…….🤝→🙏…….🐺🐺↩︎…….🔴→⚪’

Listened to the album… And Out Come The Wolves… by Rancid… while writing..

© 2026 Bryan H. All Rights Reserved.

Fifty Years of Sleep Fighting… 🏃🌪🌪🌪🌪🌪🌪🌪

Since I was a little boy—with flaming red hair—a face full of freckles—I have always been a dreamer…
As life’s bullet train has sped through my night… my freckles have faded… blended…
my hair has darkened from that fiery red—to something older…
But my dreams…
They have never faded…
They are still alive…

Sleep is not rest for me—
It is assignment…
It is battlefield…
When I close my eyes at night—
I am not drifting off…
I am clocking in…
For a fight…

Since childhood—storms call my name…
Not gently…
But roaring… spinning…
Tearing open my sky…
Hurricanes… tornadoes…
I have stood in both—right in the heart of them—more than once…
They do not push me back…
They pull me in…
I do not run from storms—
I run toward them…
I am a storm chaser…

Yet in my dreams—the rules reverse…

In my dreams—the storms chase me…

For fifty years—I have had the same recurring dream…
Hundreds of times…
Tornado dreams…
Always different… yet always the same…
Tornadoes spinning on every horizon…
Coming for me…
Hunting me…
Running me down…
They never quite catch me—
But they drive me forward…
They harden my legs…
They make me stronger…

Yet…

It would be great just to rest sometimes…
Catch a break in my night…
Lay down my sword…
Take off my armor…
No courage…
No strength…
Just sleep…
Just sleep…
Just sleep…

`’.°~ ¹⁴³

© Bryan H. 2025 — All Rights Reserved

In me… songs are alive… soundtracking my dreams… night after night…

While writing this… I listened to the album History by Matthew West… from 2o05… one of my favorites from him…