between the flickers.

  I've often wondered where dreams go when they die. I mean, the real ones that confuse you with their too-vivid reality, not the fluff ones. Those ones melt like candy floss in your mouth, to be expelled during your first morning bathroom stop. 

   I'd had one of the real ones the other night. Visceral and absolute, it had hit me like a suckerpunch, only to fade like a 3 day old bruise by my morning tea. The details pushed themselves further away with each attempt at remembrance... and yet... 

   The dream had driven my mundane life into unrecognisable shapes. Even the soft t-shirt I'd earned from a horrible relationship three boyfriends ago felt foreign. My beloved flipflops cradled my feet with a familiarity that grated, their very everydayness serving to cast a light upon my wish to revisit my melting dreamworld. There was a someone there, I knew, who burned with an importance that torched everything else to cinders. The tea I sipped tasted of liquid quicksilver, a leaden dose of reality seeping unwanted poison through my veins.

   The rest of my days passed with a testudinal slowness that ached at my already shredded psyche. How could a dream I couldn't even recall hold me with such power? How could a face I couldn't even draw on paper make me vibrate with a constant thrumming from the inside out? I eagerly put myself to sleep at night, hoping for a return to the mysterious self I had only just found and unfound all in the space of an opening eyelid.

   Resting my dog-eared copy of Stranger In A Strange Land face down onto the pillow beside my head, I closed my eyes and pondered Heinlein's meanings of grok: "to drink", "to be one with", "to understand thoroughly and intuitively". This One I longed to rendezvous with covered all those different meanings for me. I yearned to drink of his water, to infuse his life force into my own, and to pour my then over-filled cup into his no longer full one, thus completing both of us at once.

   With these feelings boiling inside me, a swirling cacophony of semi-lucid magma, I breathed deep. 

   Deeper... 

   Deepest...

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

Our dreams are door ways into life. If we have a dream three times. It support to come true. A very good chapter. I like how you are opening her mind up to the reader. A excellent chapter. I like how you ended the chapter.
Coyote

[Crowley]

(huge smile) there was a whole lotta goings on in this little shorty. You did a great job of letting the reader inside your world with awesome description. The candy floss line was killer, oh hell there were many memorable and quotable lines in this one. I'm a huge fan Girly Q...but then you know that.

[Ed Hart]

i can grok it...and you write like a flower facing the sun