Between the Click of the Light, and the Start of a Dream

I'm living in a dream world.

The actions and events of yesterday fade into memories as I immerse myself in the NOW, a place I am quite content with really. The storm and overcast skies are all but a passing dream; easily forgotten as I sit in this serene utopia. I look up into sheer blue skies, the strikingly naked branches of a neighbors tree dancing in my peripheral.

[TIME TO BE SOCIAL]

(from recollection)

Eyes closed, the only feeling to be had is one of sunlight, beating down and my pores opening to greet it. The groggy weight of sickness gives way to a simplistic epidermal euphoria, brought on by those heavenly rays, shining true and throwing neon lights across my closed eyelids. A soft breeze tickles into existence, coaxes a tingling laugh from the already exited pores, caressing and gentle with each fickle gust. A furry fruition slides under an, until then, unattentive hand, coming to a stop before the familiar nose prod.

Eyes open in acknowledgement. Lizzie. She comes into focus, tail swaying and eyebrows jumping with a flicker like marionettes prancing across a doggie-faced backdrop. but she's much brighter than memory serves, alight with an angelic glow, and as I pan around through consciousness, the yard I once knew becomes more, a dream world glowing supernatural through this dream world filter.

[BIKE RIDE]

Sun-Smudged Peach Moon

Softer than an ice cream cone in June. There is no moon, no sun to smudge it. The fog blankets our small town, every inch of blue sky blotted out by this abysmal gray. Soft as it is, the rain still dampens everything; the ground, the air, the mood and rhythm of the day. It's an Elliot Smith song outside, but behind these windows the spirits are lifted, or that seems to be the impression at least. People caught between conversation and dining etiquette, choking down food fiending for words; a story, a farce, a recollection told countless times, just something to avoid that hiccup in socializing, that silence on the horizon. To fathom that elusive sound of pure uninhibited human silence in an environment like this tickles the fantastic. The volume of indiscernible chatter and desperate laughs giving way to a thick silence. Grotesque to some, uncomfortable to most, but nonetheless beautiful. Air conditioning ducts hum to prominence accompanied by an incessant clank of cheap silverware on even cheaper dishware, the muffled pitter-patter of the rain on the patio. Ahh, the indescribable ecstasy of impossibility.

[TIME FOR CLASS]