I awake frightened at the thought that everyone's nightmare soon became a past action of mine. I found myself wondering if the boundary between nightmares and reality really existed. Shortly after, I realize it does indeed exist but only as a thin line of my impending imagination. I stand still, eyes dazed, hoping the black and purple mirror marks are not a reflection. Earlier in the fading night sky I dreamt of a clean mirror without those marks and scratches hurting her. My eyes are forced wide-open yet denial greets me at first glance. Do these marks make memories remain? Hopefully, I can clean the mirror but sadly, she solely sees me. And I cannot help but feel dirty.