Dream Sequence #8
Sun shines down on the clear hills that overlook this hazy ghost town, a corner of the world that everyone has touched, but reaching out felt so distant. Disparate but not desperate, a hopeful surprise keeping two worlds apart by only a few inches; knowing fate was a cruel trick because on top of this corner table was two stories on the same page. Two pages slowly drifting apart by the bookmarks of a semi-colon life that felt like a sequence of disconnected periods.
A wall separating these two entities that had previously felt trapped, immersed in the blue sky, listening to the waves of automobiles behind the wall and under the expansive blue. For so long life was crashing against the rocks, eroding the rocks because it was the only way to escape the space next to the hard place. The difficulty hidden in depths untouched because it was never just right.
“I’m sorry… I don’t usually talk this much… ” said this passing cloud.” I love it, don’t stop unless you want, I love the rain and the shade and I’ve found three things I’ve already that I’ve never seen before.”
Dream Sequence #5
I’ve never been so nervous, at least in a long while, the hills felt like mountains and each curve almost wrapped around itself. I felt lost, as I’d given it a chance before, but the maps I’d created and the distant X’s left behind offered me the confidence to forge ahead. On top of that mountain sits no expectation and a butterfly garden that would soon disappear.
It was like riding on the edge of a cliff surrounded by strangers and shaped glass, no hand to hold but still wanting to despite it still being so fresh. So new this oldness was, rejuvenated by silliness and impeccable timing, the space was never enough and yet I felt my packed backs disappearing. One by one each skeleton filed out in search of a picture and a garden, but I was enraptured by the person beside me because answers arrived to questions I never bothered asking. Up the ramp and down the stairs, through the windy path we went, this soul and heart wrapped in darkness (or so I was told) stopped front an center. A moment I had to capture, so I blinked.
Dream Sequence #1
I listened to you feel a distant memory. I had to dream again.
Dream Sequence #10
There before me in my doorway stood the framed exit that was planned for months. Empty and black in the depths of the night because sleeping was not an option, a departure pending as the seconds crept ever so close to what I knew was coming. It should have been guessed given the mountains of misgivings and galaxies of avoidance that had been taken thus far. Sure, there was an avalanche or slide along the way, but they’d been forecast so the proper attire was always available. This, however, was not. On the road ahead were the clear blue skies that swallowed the world whole as the stylized ruins lay behind me. Looking through the mirror, the gas pedal is pressed and then everything disappears. The dream becomes a blank slate.
Dream Sequence #32
Whispers shriek through the halls of consciousness like a neon sign at night saying things like “forget…” and “regardless…” or sadly stating “left behind…“. The flickering shadows of hollow paintings outline a path less traveled. Shadows slide against the edges as light displays the masks of what was left, personas and colorful characters with honestly fabricated smiles. Above the entrance was a stapled cardboard sign that read like a title chapter of a story all too familiar, “Based on a True Story,” but none of it made up the myth of Who I Was. Standing silently at the edge of a place put aside, salty laughter filled this space with wet wishes and hopes dashed because I refused to give it time. I thought for sure the fading trees that filled the forest of memories were becoming more beautiful, not realizing that the cold was creeping in and the emptiness had never truly disappeared. It is a lie.
Too often it’s simple to view this place as a lateral representation of self-blinding, but if time and space were all there were, then it cannot be ignored the spring of life that was found. Ups and down explain the gaps and the horizontal halls are walkable, but at this point it would be silly to say our goodbye’s as if it were over. To move diagonally with effort to pass through dark moments and light memories is a gift that was given sitting behind some people that obscured the falsity of painted scenery. This is not a pipe and this was not a dream, it is merely what I look forward to.