yesterday’s free-write:
Oh, my moon-eyed muppet. You have no idea I, or we, collectively, have a pet name for you. You and your big brown eyes with huge pupils overtaking, smooth olive skin and those eyebrows like god painted them in. Elf ears. Where did you come from and where are you taking me? I’ve got nothing to do but keep my hands in my pocket and let you lead the way. If I were trapped in a missile silo, I would first check exits, then check for communication, then supplies. There I find full supplies, food water, etc., but none of the communication equipment works. All I know is that I woke up from a dream, in which I was so close to someone from the past that I could feel him. But this time, instead of the nameless/faceless man I’ve been seeing my entire childhood, it is someone I knew once, a long time ago. And in fact, it was here, that I knew him. So the computers are up but I can’t seem to send any outgoing messages. There are status reports from other stations. Equipment destroyed, offline. Hello? There doesn’t seem to be anybody out there. I’m stuck in here. And I think the world above me is destroyed, gone, and I may be the last person. But the strange thing is, I don’t know how I got down here. This program has been shut down for years. Last night, I went to bed in my own bed. Or did I? Did something traumatic happen that put me in the hospital? What was it that I was trying to do? Why did I happen to think about him that night? He must have been the sum of my answers. Somewhere in waking life, I was awake, and suddenly plunged into sleep. When I wake, you will not remember me. This is from his dream. He has dreamed of her, seen her, felt her so close that he could almost smell her skin. He wants her. He has always wanted her, but he gave up on her because he could never have her. And then she shows up and haunts his dreams. When I wake, you will not remember me. When he wakes? Why when she wakes? Because it is her dreams that control his reality. He has always been tied to her, known it on a conscious level, but the only way she was ever going to believe that he’s real is if she finds the man from her dreams in real life. And even when she had originally met him, he wasn’t him yet. So she didn’t recognize him. Ah, sweet sweet love. You only show yourself at the right time and place. I used to wonder if the feeling of love was a trick, something to lure me in and motivate me to work out all my karmic debt. My karma comes out of the 12th house, through the past, through my romantic relationships, my ideals. I need a spiritual union that somehow heals the past to allow for a future, however abstract and mystical. Someday, I want to have a life of my own, a love of my own, something that I can look at and feel its what I’ve been looking for my entire life. One day, I want to look into your eyes and know that I have finally found you. Why have I been dreaming for so long, dreams that feel more real than life? There was that one night that scared me. I woke up to a light in my room coming from the outside, my body unable to move, and garbled noises, like chanting in another language on the radio, a language almost like static…but with more heart. Was it then that they found me? Was it then that they whispered the secrets of my past to me? Was it then that I ceased to sleep, but only to dream. I am wayward in my ways. I am lost in my own devices. My darkness is my light because I feel the world of darkness. Sometimes, the night echoes back to me and I feel the familiar hand of time upon my shoulder. I am only here until I am not here. And something about that tells me that I am so small, that there is nothing to do but make a difference. I want to find you, hold your hand, look you in the eye and tell you how long it has been since I first found you, in a different world, in my dream.