Dreams

Dreams

Recurring dreams can’t be good. Especially one so odd. Before this particular dream, my dreams where always light, weird, and funny. But, then this odd and slightly scary thing inhabits my night time allusions. Before this particular dream, I attempted to eat giant marshmallows, was falling continuously, and played volleyball with Batman. It’s always the same and that’s what scares me the most.

Chilled to the bone, but my feet are burning. As I’m wrapped head to knee in clothes that only appear warm. A nice fluffy coat, thick wooly scarf, mittens, and cap. All of which are white. They practically glow with the moonlight. It’s almost as if the moon beams where weaving themselves into the very fabric. Luna thread. Beautiful, shiny, thin Luna thread. The needle! Where’s the needle? Do I manipulate it? Could I poses such deft quality?

Needles, needles. Pine. Trees! Yes, trees. Not pine, the leafy kind. The ones that change colors at the demand of seasons. They’re in rows. Two rows, one on each side of me. Leaves, how can they look so vivacious when trapped by the night hours, suppressed from full potential? On my left, the beautiful green of spring and new life. The green sparkles as if each individual leaf has it’s own star to reflect light from. Celestial glitter. To my right, the other row. Just as vibrant even when it’s suffering from the cruelty of seasonal change. Yet, still looking just as lively as if some artist had painted over the green life because he preferred red, orange, yellow, and brown. Colors of death, colors of change. Forced to change, but somehow retaining that vivacious sparkle. Lively sparkle.

Sparkle, sparkle. Spark. Fire, hot. Burning! The path I walk. It burns my feet. That damn gravel is burning my feet! Each step is both a relief and a torture. I refuse the haven the trees spare. Not because I don’t want it. Oh God, I do. I can’t. Can’t decide which side. Celestial glitter or Paint of Change? Normally, this wouldn’t stop me. In reality I would have chosen whichever my instincts pointed to. In the Land of Dreams, everything needs a reason. Bare feet keep walking over black burning gravel, because they must.

Burning. Hot, fire. Spark. Sparkle! How the sky twinkles. I realize now. That I haven’t seen the gravel, clothes, or the trees. I just know. I know that they are there. I tell myself so. Every time. All I have seen is the sky. Nearly bright as day. So many stars, some overlapping one another in large groups. The moon. Sweet Luna. Creator of my Luna thread. Out shining all the stars in the cosmos. She alone has the power to seduce me into repeating dreams. Such beautiful dreams.