I have been back and forth in my mind, going through trying to remember the countless dreams that I had this morning. The harder I try the lost I more become. A sore loser, I am now pressing the palms of my hands against my eyelids as I blame my aching back for giving up on me, being too tired to go back to my lost euphoria. The heat from the daylight tells me that I should be up even though my will tells me otherwise, slowly opening my eyes just in time to find myself realizing that I am too early to be awake for this Saturday morning. It was as if my restless mind has a life of its own. All I could do now is spoil and just give in as it glides over and through the bluest horizons, leaving behind the rest of my no-good-for- any-outdoor-activity-body motionless, awkwardly positioned and thrown like a crumpled origami crane lying in an ocean of the whitest cloud like cloth and the most reassuring cushions. My make believe strong limbs are now deemed useless. Imagination that was once dependable felt like it was all forced. Slumber was too far away yet my consciousness was deep under. I am on a desert looking for the oasis of hope, ever desperate to be quenched by sleep, to be overwhelmed and to be wooed by its promises. A real romance I would say. Easy and true, like reading the words from a bedtime story singing midnight lullabies, no more pretensions, now believing in fiction and magic, to every nostalgic meaning and for these softest pillows I clutch I am polygamous for loving one and all.
The warmth lingers as it gently moisten my ashen skin and cracked lips. The rays from the sunlight indulgently playful passing through the window. Microscopic and now magnified, they appear to be dancing having the time of their lives in a parade as they waltz their way through the thin glass. And as they enter we can see that they have willingly committed their entire existence just to shatter into splinters of gem like formations, a color mixture of intangible ruby, diamonds and emeralds with golden sunflower hues. They collaborate with the traffic of specs that gently sailing through the air, gliding and floating adrift, drawn to the sunbeams like a moth to a lamp, the only light in the room. They had brought life along with them greeting the frailty in me with this renewed day.
I found a thought suspended in the air and then grabbing a hold of it as I try to be more comfortable by placing one heel on top of the other foot against the window sill. The porcelain ashtray lying next to me, parallel to my cigarette hand while my left hand is tucked-pressed between my head and my trusty pillow.
I did not want to get up; I felt the guilt whispering in my ears. Finally sleep had decided to make up for lost time. She is the jealous type, the more you ignore the closer she gets. She’s like Morrissey in the song. No will can turn its invitation away even if one comes to be real focused on the thoughts of greater consequence. The fractions and the decimal points will make no sense, every known law in physics will remain written in textbooks but not all will apply.
“Just for ten minutes then I will have to wake up” I told myself but I knew I was over committing.
I could see every thought twirling over and under, from my mind to the chest they were overflowing, a hodgepodge of familiar and the strange. Each episode was like a paper note tied to a string, a kite taking its flight sending messages up to the sky. A strong pull to let it go that is the trick. And through the clouds each went, higher and higher until they can never be seen. I knew I still had them, it felt I still did. But suddenly without warning the reel full of strings went berserk, rolling loose, rushing, so I tied the end of the strings I had to the wooden posts of the bed. For a second there, I thought I had all the kites anchored, but I was proven wrong when I felt the bed started moving, as we went crashing through the wall, finding cover behind the headboard, as we went through the concrete and all the debris, shooting up to the morning sky and out we went to the blackened space and of twilight and comets and supernovas and what seemed to be a body of an outer space aurora. Everything was going fast as it happens. The pace of this dream was off the charts. I could see the landscapes of greens, the polar caps and the watery blues of the world below. Morning never looked so alive as the current and the waves run the whitest of white, while the other side glitters with city lights humbled in the blanket of the beautiful night, as the man in the printed pajamas was sitting on the edge of the crescent moon dabbling his feet in the dreams of those who rest below. He turns and waves hello, careful not to fall with one hand holding the wooden headboard, I tried to balance my body to repay the noble act. I then realized that it was not I that was looking down on everything, but it was the stars that did. They are the audience not me. I felt stripped of my clothes, naked in front of the heaven’s prying eyes.
I am in between the skies and the earth, now fearing that my flying vessel may snatch a sudden jerk waking me up from the dream that was ending way too soon. Now keeping both eyes open, consciously trying not to make any unforgivable mistakes yet relishing, I looked over my head as I decided to finally close my eyes for a moment to feel the air brushing through my hair. I was letting go, accepting the fact that I might not even remember any of these things when I wake up. But no worries, for the mind may forget but the soul never will. And for as long as we dream, even though our minds are not conditioned for these sorts and our expectations are not cut out for anything as spontaneous as she is, I’d say, ride out anyways. For dreams are like faith, it is for the believers, for those who have nothing to possess, for those whose hands are bare, for the astronauts and the cloud watchers in us, for the ever hopefuls.