daydream sleepwalk
In bed last night, waiting for the dreams to come, the smell of season's change streamed in from outside. The scent reminded me of summer mornings, the kind between school years where every moment is savored like tastes and smells that vanish so quickly. This change is into autumn, but for some reason each change has a similar scent. Wordless/shapeless memories and sensations sprouted in my mind with each breath, blossoming simple pleasures without definition. The wealth of emotion and wonder that is conveyed with that ethereal nectar never ceases to amaze me, always able to catch me off guard and send me into the vaults of my own memory. My mental self walks through the library of remembered dreams and remembered days, which taste the same as dreams anymore, both as intangible, both as unreachable. Turn a corner and I remember: after what seemed like a struggle that lasted hours, bounding over rooftops, crashing through windows to dodge grenades launched from helicopters in a used-up future, over-run with vampires, battling those immortal creatures, the last battle in an expansive cathedral, he was dead on the table, blood pouring from him in what seemed a never-ending river. Leaving him there, I stepped toward the massive double doors, stretching from the ground almost to the impossibly high ceiling. A gentle nudge of telekinesis and the doors eased open, spreading to show the most beautiful landscape, what seemed the inner ring of a natural collosseum wrapping around to form the horizon. With ease and grace I lifted from my feet, floating toward the violet sky, white petals drifting and tumbling through the air from some unseen source. Without language, without prompting, these dreams of waking and dreams of slumber bloom and wither on the island continent of my mind. Colors leap from the palette to dance on the canvas and paint a picture of desires fulfilled, dreams born from unseen places in that sub-layer of my mind, the basement of my psyche. Upon sleeping and slipping into another kind of waking life, upon waking and dreaming into another kind of unreal existence, remember to not forget and hold inside this amazing gift that everything is just a dream, each awakening is just a transition between one dream and the next.