The imagery is genius.
Night terror, my night terror, come slay my sleep. Stab it with your will and laugh with maniacal glee as I never taste the bliss of pleasant slumber. Instead you wait, like a vivid reality of my mind. A trap in which I can never flee. I get more exercise with my eyes shut and shackled under the puppet master. Who directed this reel tonight that causes me to shout and swing my arms about. There is not a face to my misery, but that misery has a house. I am that temple.