Where am I when I dream?

I’m within a dark dreamscape.
Far away from
Any streetlights.

Beyond a rotting picket fence,
That seems to smile like
It is missing several teeth.

I sit, head in hands,
Beyond an unkempt garden
Of grass and brambles.

Behind thick vines
That grow and twist,
Sealing the entrance,
Where my mouth
Lies silent
And boarded shut.

My eyes,
Are cracked windows,
Painted shut with time
And stained with
Memories and detritus.

I am incarcerated,
For the term of my natural life,
Within this skull-shaped cell.

Propped up by hands,
Reinforced by rope,
Hope,
And rotting dreams.

Nursing
My aching bones,
And my scars
of grief,

That line the walls
Within dusty,
Broken frames.