Nightmare II

Anchored in this groggy dream, unaware of passing
of time or space or anything that I am amassing.
Triggers from the past float by, pale and half-recalled.
Corridors of memories––narrow, densely walled.
No way to check these stories from a cursed past.
How could we have  known how long past memories might last?
The cattle stir, the hoot owl hoots and night birds sing their song––
accompaniment to nightmares that draw us, too, along.

The prompt words for The Sunday Whirl are: aware passing stirred check groggy trigger pale dream space anchor cursed low