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Tuesday, January 06, 2004am i a dreamer?never triumphing over something, always sure where my step is placed, i've always waved hello but never spoken to chance as she passes by. i tell myself, stick with what is sure, and i'm sure to minimize my falls. i've grown tired of my sure footing, of things being "easy" and falling into my lap, like another damned gift. i got rejected recently. that's right-denied. it was one of the first times i'd ever pursued someone, actually pursued them instead of waiting for them to come to me. taking a step off the beaten path, if i may. and i fell flat on my face. i finally spoke to chance and got completely blown off with the brush of hand. and its about damn time, too. for a second there i thought i was eighteen and invincible, but as it turns out my mortality was only temporarily dormant. new thought: about eight years ago i would have these dreams that occurred right before it was time to wake up in the morning, when the light has already begun to shine through my windows and hit my closed eyes. this would create a strange effect on my dream, because as we all know we can still "see" with our eyes closed, as long as there is some sort of light filtered in through our eyelids. the color of this blinded sight??: tan. in this dream i am standing over my sleeping body, watching myself in this early morning light. but because of the aforementioned effect, this entire dream is blurred with a tan backround. anyway, i am standing over myself, watching myself sleep, and i know that is time to get up. so i say out loud "get up" and wait for my body to move. then a realization dawn upon me: i can't make myself move. i have no real attachment to any part of my body, i can only see myself, while the rest of me is completely disconnected. this, of course, doesn't make any logical sense, so i tell myself, "this is a dream! get up!", and still i can't move, i can't think as one solid "I", because i am still separated from the sleeping boy. so then i focus my entire brain, my entire being on moving one finger, just one finger, because if i can move that finger then i will feel it move, being that it is mine, and to feel it move would make me feel the rest of my hand, which would in turn let me feel the rest of my arm, and my body would once again be my own....but i can't. not one finger. i suddenly feel claustrophobic, unable to breathe at all, trapped by this tan universe. the desperation is so overwhelming that it moves to my stomach, which tightens in fear, and then upwards, to my lungs, which burn with want, then up to behind my eyes, which tingle, then burn, then let out the first of many tears. and i cry. and it is these tears, these beads of anger and frustration, that finally wake me. am i dreaming?
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