I find that my dreams have been oddly unsettling lately. They're all ruined buildings overgrown by plants and trees and houses on tall cliffs overlooking turbulent, azure waters, and persecution and anxiety; delirium and ennui and film noir and unfinished, pregnant pauses; I wake up confused every morning, separating my real life from the fictitious lives my brain creates every night...
- Tonight you're a warrior, running through the wet jungle, your feet padding on much traveled desire lines, your gait sure but determined an urgent task at hand. Large trees flash by as you hurry forward, your arms tattooed with jagua pump the air, a chant forms on your lips, is whispered to the wind and prayed to the heavens. Your body is oiled, gleaning in the spotty sunlight streaming through the heavy canopy. The smell of monkey piss, humidity and rotting leaves is heavy in the air; steam rises from decomposing matter. You wake up as you reach a clearing, the sun bursting forward, level 1 completed.
- Tonight you're on a beach with white sands, empty except for a few families. The waves break on the shore one after another, the water recedes rapidly and the sound of a thundering train can be heard in the distance. You know what it is instinctively, you don't have enough time to warn the families but you do so anyway as you run back up to higher ground. Your legs are heavy and get caught in the sand; time slows to a stop. You turn around in knowing horror as you see the wall of water advance. There is nothing you can do but wait; wait and get obliterated or jump into the wave and get obliterated. I know what I have to do, the option is clear. I jump.
- Tonight you're in your late twenties writing fluff material on your blog that nobody actually reads with a cat warming your toes and the sound of your keyboard clicking and your fan whirring and the train loading and the crickets buzzing and the night night night with a full moon that beckons seductively all from your very window. A sickly sweet scent perfumes the night air; you can't get enough of it, stuffing the bloom deep inside your nasal cavities and inhaling deeply. The scent a complicated, sensual balance that you can't quite place. A container dropped roughly sets the earth vibrating, the tremors customary and routine, once aggravating now soothe you. The cat twitches, his paws tapping Morse code on the sheets, dreams of mouse and men and robots while the city sleeps.
I'm feeling hopeful for a future which I cannot see clearly, but have the lovely desire to meet head on, shake hands with and say ruefully, "I've been waiting for you some time", like a long lost lover whose smell you forgot and suddenly remembered.