The Truth Behind The Eye
This morning, I dreamt that I had been chosen by some unimaginably lucky chance for a seat on a space shuttle. I had been getting training and I was going to go where I had yearned to be all of my childhood, into space. But just as final preparations were being made, I was overwhelmed by my fear of heights and flying and the vacuum, and I freaked out. I couldn't go. There was just no way. I could tell how disappointed everyone was and I could feel my own incredulity. Would I really let fear stand in the way of a once-in-a-lifetime chance? But I imagined what it would be like for me to be trapped behind a window, looking down at my home from a small bubble in the void, and that was it.
As a kind of consolation prize (and probably to ease my nerves) I was offered a trip to Canada instead, and they managed to get me on a military jet for the journey. Somehow, after the impending space flight, a jet seemed bearable. Not comfortable, but bearable, and it traveled so fast that I couldn't imagine wanting to fly any other way. It was like a shot when you're a kid, I remember my dream-self thinking: in and done. And my mom was there, and I think some other friends. We wandered through this huge museum and at some point, I had an itch on my lower belly, toward my side. It was bothersome, so I pulled up my shirt a bit and pulled down my pants a little to get at it, and that's when I saw it - an overgrown, misshapen, terrible brown mole. And from it, raised skin that was the same texture and color as the mole, in an irregular strip down my side. I was overcome with horror, and woke up.
So I knew I was stressed out today, even though I've been bearing it rather well. I brushed the pressure aside for a while, having a good lunch and doing just fine driving on a very wet freeway. I even got to my appointment at the EDD an hour early. But when I checked myself in the mirror before heading out of the car, I caught sight of something so very sad in my gaze that I couldn't hardly stand it. I reminded myself of how lucky I was, and how much I had, and that things were okay. But my eyes told a different story. There was something so lonely in them that I couldn't help but feel pity.
And though my day went fairly well, they haven't changed since.
As a kind of consolation prize (and probably to ease my nerves) I was offered a trip to Canada instead, and they managed to get me on a military jet for the journey. Somehow, after the impending space flight, a jet seemed bearable. Not comfortable, but bearable, and it traveled so fast that I couldn't imagine wanting to fly any other way. It was like a shot when you're a kid, I remember my dream-self thinking: in and done. And my mom was there, and I think some other friends. We wandered through this huge museum and at some point, I had an itch on my lower belly, toward my side. It was bothersome, so I pulled up my shirt a bit and pulled down my pants a little to get at it, and that's when I saw it - an overgrown, misshapen, terrible brown mole. And from it, raised skin that was the same texture and color as the mole, in an irregular strip down my side. I was overcome with horror, and woke up.
So I knew I was stressed out today, even though I've been bearing it rather well. I brushed the pressure aside for a while, having a good lunch and doing just fine driving on a very wet freeway. I even got to my appointment at the EDD an hour early. But when I checked myself in the mirror before heading out of the car, I caught sight of something so very sad in my gaze that I couldn't hardly stand it. I reminded myself of how lucky I was, and how much I had, and that things were okay. But my eyes told a different story. There was something so lonely in them that I couldn't help but feel pity.
And though my day went fairly well, they haven't changed since.