REMs and Real Life

The sleep was clawing away at his eyes, pulling his eyelids down, as if some destitute child was under there trying to pull them onto himself for warmth. He sat there, motionless, pondering what he should do with his life, pondering his next move. The dimly lit screen cast its weak glow in his brown eyes, resembling the lack of fire that he felt within himself. Canvas, papers, and random clippings lay strewn about his room. His clock was practically glaring at him, demanding with those bright green diodes for him to just give it up and turn in already. But he wasn't having it. He wasn't going to give in...until his head drooped slightly.

Fuzz, and then clarity.

There was a girl walking towards him, her face indistinguishable. Normally, the lack of one's face would be a cause for panic, but that wasn't the case here. Even without facial distinction, he somehow knew she was smiling. Her raven hair looked soft, and smelled of lavender. He reached out to touch her, but she danced out of his reach, letting out a giggle as she pranced away from his outstretched fingers. He wanted to pursue her, but he looked down and realized that both of his legs were strapped with weights, the kinds that convicts wore, with the black ball at the end. Yet they didn't slow him down in the slightest. It seemed as though they were on him as a reminder of something, of what he did not recall. He gave a sharp tug and broke free of his shackles, and began sprinting after her. He was gaining on her, and was now so close that he could see her dark locks flowing, as ethereal as the rest of her. All of a sudden, he ceased running. He realized that he didn't want to see her face. He felt happy not knowing. So he turned around, and made his way back to where he had left the shackles, but they were no longer there. Instead, the cold chains had now turned into a plush blanket. Odd. He laid down, pulled the warm fabric up to his chin, and promptly fell asleep...

He awoke with a start.

He blinked his eyes groggily, attempting with little success to straighten the contact that had become dislodged during his brief doze. He looked at the clock and was shocked to see that it was already 4 am. But he couldn't sleep. Instead, he went outside and began to walk, his destination unknown. The warm spring breeze washed over him. He observed the concrete and metal and pretended they were palm trees and sand. Pretended that the smog was actually the crisp ocean breeze, filling his lungs. Pretended there was no sense of anxiety gnawing at his stomach, that he knew the future, and that it was a good one. He was so busy imagining these things that before he knew it he was at a bus stop. Conveniently, a bus pulled in at that very moment. The driver opened the door with a small hiss. He peered down, and inquired: "You going south?" Was he going south? He took no more than five seconds to mull it over, responded with an enthusiastic "Hell yes," and hopped on. Here it was! The change that he craved. The sea, the wide open highways, no longer having to deal with ignorant people and their traffic choked streets. Everything was going to be different now....

His alarm blared so loudly he nearly had a coronary.

Sunlight was streaming in through his soot-coated window. He drew back the curtains, and was greeted with honking cars, gray skies, and an inordinate amount of pigeons. So he turned around, threw himself into bed, and proceeded to drift off once more.

Author's Note

Just some random, free associating type of stuff. It's more or less based on how I was feeling at the moment, but not all of it. Which parts are true and which parts aren't will forever remain a mystery. Haha

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[James Bonner]

It's like squinting - seemingly effortlessly - through some translucent lens at hope, or at least, the illusion of hope. Automatic and free association writing are my favorite to explore.