Dreams

I am a fool for dreams. I am utterly and completely obsessed and in love with dreams.

Dreams are like a comfortable dress, they are laces of wavy soft fabric stitched onto my mind. My dreams are like cloths of different colours layered one after the other making it very flowy and intricate.

They are like a hot air balloon that I hop on to so that I could see the magic of the land above.

I hold on to them and they let me fly into a world that is filled with fantasy.

Dreams are both a curse and boon, sometimes you can chase after these dreams hoping they might turn true eventually or you could just chase them and live in the fantasy and not accept the truth or you could just quit it all and move on to the next dream.

I have dreams, I like to dream. It’s like being in a movie when I am asleep, or going off to a different universe where time works differently altogether. It’s a nice concept.

There are new and familiar faces in my dreams and there are new, horrifying, creative, passionate and unique stories out there that are waiting to be played as soon I go to sleep.

However there are some dreams that often have the same theme going on and on over again. Why? I guess it’s your mind and heart telling your deepest desires and knowing myself, I guess my dreams are the only method to work those out without any complications and repercussion.

Sometimes I do talk and have these cries and screams in my dreams. These are the signs of my nightmares. In very few instances, I do remember my nightmares but many of the times I possibly cannot remember what caused my terrors during my sleep. I seem to wake up without any recollection of what happens. There are times when I am aware of the fact that I have cried and screamed but the others, I am not. I am only aware of it when someone comments about it which then catches me off guard because I can never remember what I dreamed about.

Then there are these dreams that only happen once but they seem too real and you start to question if these dreams are memories supressed down that are now resurfacing up. These type of dreams are the ones where I can’t distinguish whether it was reality or just a dream.

Then those dreams happen where everything is heartbreakingly beautiful and perfect. The story in these dreams are seducing and alluring. The details are perfect and you remember everything even after days and months. You couldn’t be more satisfied but you wish for a continuation because either you were woken up abruptly or you just want a continuation to this story, to see what lies more.

It is an agony being awake after dreaming of it. You would and will want to do anything to go back to them.

So one tries anything, and I mean anything. I have tried to recreate the same scenario by imagining every detail as it was with nothing changed. I imagine the ending in my mind and then try to convince my mind to somehow incooproate this into the continuation of my unfinished dream, but it has never once worked. I always land up with a different dream instead.

I have also come up with various ways on how it would end or how I could continue it without dreaming but none of it as good as dreaming it.

Those good dreams, I feel they are a privilege that has to be earned.

Don’t you ever wish there was a machine to capture all these dreams that you dream of and then you can watch them later like a movie or be able to dream of the continuation in your next sleep?

Why does one dream? Is it a way to indulge into fantasies that reality cannot deem to offer? Are our dreams the actual lives that we live, when we dream, we go to that world and we live our orignal life and the life that we lead when awake is sort of a stimulation run by someone else?

Or are dreams a sort of drug injected in us by aliens, by humans or by any other creature as sort of an experimentation or do they need us to be in heavy slumber and dream so that they do something to us or the world without our knowings?

An other theory of my dreams are that these unknown faces that I dream of, what if they are actual human beings and we all are somehow being put in the same dream by a force. I see my side of the story and they see thiers, what if we are meant to connect all the peices of the story and the dream to find something?

Why are our dreams being interrupted? Is it because we are capable or on the verge of finding something that is not meant to be found?

How do we know that these lives that we lead now are also dreams? I have a theory that this life what I lead, these people I know, these expereinces I am going through are something that has happened in the past or a sort of stimualtion. When in reality, I am in a choma dreaming of all this.

I end all of this now. I depart off to an other world, to another time to dream and you might find me writing my stories there.

Until next time.

I can’t sleep

I can’t sleep because of the weight of the galaxy I carry inside my body

I can’t sleep because of the stars that light up in my soul

I can’t sleep because the stars have lost their way to reach the midnight skies

I can’t sleep because of the crack of the dawn in the skies

I can’t sleep when I am awake because I am out here sitting on the ledge staring out at the skies behind my window

Its a clear baby blue sky with an orange stripe painted right across it

I hear the birds chip signalling the start of a new morning

However I can’t get myself to sleep despite the touch of the morning

I am afraid I have fallen into the habit of not sleeping at night due to the chores that keep me busy at night

I have failed to see the beauty in the mornings as I wake up

I see the drapes shut of many of the windows out there, as the drapes start to open, I close mine indicating the world that I am down for my slumber

Never being able to get sleep has only been one of the few problems in my life because that happens almost never but it does happen and when it does, it’s usually the sign of a chaos erupting soon

I don’t know what to do but sitting on this narrow ledge near my window seems to be helping quite a bit

This feels movie like

You know the scene where it’s early dawn or dusk and the writer goes out somehwhere seeking for an inspiration or for an answer to the cosmos exisiting within them.

It feels like that right now except for them, it leads to a big climatic search and for me, it feels ordinarly extraordinary but carries an undertone of a MacGuffin.

I am starring in my own movie, just not without any cameras or an audience to see it all unfold

As I am staring out into the abyss listening to country music, I have realised how beauitful they are, matching up to the slow excitement of the sunrise. I have realized how decieving they can be with thier words but still manage to create a charm in the listner.

Hues of Pink have started to come into the view and I can see a blend of pink, red, orange and white join to create a thin cloud trail spread and strech across the sky

I have stayed up all night to witness one of the many miracles of life uninteionally and can i say was it worth it?

It has but it still hasn’t made me want to lie down and drowse

The blend of colours have now painted itself across the skies, fusion itself with blue evoking different feelings in me

I see that very same blend trail across the skies just like a shooting star plumetting down to earth. What could you be? A symbol, a metaphor?

Universe, would you kindly tell me the mysterious ways in which you work

I have now witnessed the miracle of life

What now?

5. Complete

Continued from 4. From the land of the lost and tired, I have found my way

I am afraid of not jotting all of you down

You play and toy with me

All these thoughts appear at once and once I close my eyes and drift off; these thoughts and words never make its mark again

They fade away just like the rest 

Now that I have written and stored you down

I feel complete and I feel myself drift off 

I let that drift take over me welcomingly

Let me flow into that land that awaits me 

I have completed you