prayerful of dreams - 2008-06-28
preschool princess - 2008-06-16
life with my sweetheart - 2008-04-29
the fast approach of four - 2008-04-12
lighting up my own life - 2008-03-08

2002-07-18 - 9:47 a.m.

Where do we go in dreams?

I felt myself pricked to the surface of consciousness this morning, and my first thought was," oh no, this is the real me". The disillusion of waking up every day, in the same place, in the same space of time with the same ordinary face is no longer a comfort. I am bored. I am tired. Sleep is my only serenity. Although I know not where we go, when we wander the nighttime dreamscape,I linger in it's realm.

Hovering on the edge of falling asleep We dive in, and sometimes we are pushed. We surrender under the waves. We swim in textures of sounds and colours. We are light as air, and can slice through time and memory and reality. We enter the halogram of others, take shape as strangers to ourselves and see the familiar in the sublime. Dance the tango with surrealism and sybolism, the ordinary of our day, becomes the extraordinary of our night. Wishes sometimes are woven into the muted language of our thoughts, and we can fly and touch the face of loved ones who have become the breath of the stars or cradle the newborn child of our heart. We sing lullabyes to one another, and crawl under the barrier of time.We are no longer the weight of water, we are feathers in the breeze. Sometimes dreams turn against us. I remember having to outrun a glass house that was shattering into shards that were visciously falling down and impaling me. Dreams can hold us captive and set us free. I do not always have to be me. I do not always have to be wendy the ordinary. Girl trapped in suburbia. afraid of the realities of my day to day existence and inability to escape from the silk web of plainness that I have spun myself into.

and so I slide down the layers of sleep willingly. Descend the steps of my subconscious with a victorian air of elegance. Long, flowing, black lace veil, of skirt, held regally in my right hand, as I climb ~down ~down~ down. My left hand trailing along the glistening polished Spiral banister. and I am excited. to be . someone. something. anything else- other than me.

and so I swim, move against the silk backdrop, slip under the canopied night, cut through the dawn, travel through the cosmos, try on many faces, dip into many emotions, transform into poetic shadows, surrender to symbolism and sometimes, just every once in a while. in the still heartbeat of my dreams. Sometimes.

I get to kiss you.

and I wake up with the lingering taste of sweetness. alight on my mouth.

and as I flutter through the layers of sleep,pulling the lavender sheets closer to my face, my heart sinks with the unfulfilled wish that it had been real.

but why are dreams any less real than this self imposed perception of reality?

I am not sure if it is more astounding to me, that I am actually here in this sculpted world. or more astonishingly, that someday in the unknown future, I will disappear and return to the shadows of time gone by.

I am here. and you are definately not.

you are over there. dreaming your little boy blue dreams.

but every once in a while, when you least expect it.

I appear.

I know.

Because you told me so.

you told me so.

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