Nightmare?

I think I met you once, In a nightmare deep into my psyche, You were dress sharp, in carmine, Felt like death and home in one. They call them nightmares, Yet I hope they are not right, They don’t feel like nightmares Because you taste like home, And I want to believe it’s there, Somewhere I can reach awake, Where I can be the damsel in distress For my dashing Red Death.