Standing, arms outstretched, wind flowing over neutered wings
on the edge of the precipice
I dare myself to leap
Knowing in my heart what lies beneath
Now my feet scrape the edge,
one last time
My chest pounds with the magic of terror,
force and fear.
When I fall I will become enraptured by my descent
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
Monday, November 3, 2008
Lucid
As I lay in bed before sleep, I promise myself that I will ask the question. I imagine myself floating in space with countless galaxies laid out below, above, around, within. I hold onto the image as long as I can, grasping at my focus amidst a storm of warring thoughts and memories, snippets of text and faintly cascading chatter.
It's strange, like de ja vu - that feeling, suprise I guess - almost as if you have suddenly stumbled across your own mind. It is a clarity of vision when you have forgotten you have eyes, life gone supernova, awake, at last - again. When I realise I am dreaming the first thing I feel is a muted joy intermingled with a delirious wave of sweet horror. Now! Now is my chance!
I am standing on the rooftop of a building. I know this even though I see no other buildings in sight. The rooftop and everything around me is covered in a thick and lush canopy of healthy green vines. Vibrant purple flowers with large petals and glowing yellow pollen adorn the vines, and the sky is light yet a blanket of grey - no sun nor moon, a uniform embrace. I fall to my knees, scrambling to make the most of my time.
Palms to the ground I feel the grit of countless fragments, dirt and sand and soil. Sprinkled between the vines are twigs and leaves, and I lift some of them with my hands, grinding them with my fingers and watching the broken remains drift back to the rooftop. I test this world because I know I am dreaming. I snatch a flower, toss it into the air, follow its path intently. Is it real? How good is it, how accurate my mind's eye? Close to perfect, as far as I can tell. But, that's the problem; as soon as I begin to clamber through my dreams, as fast as I can tear it apart and make sense of it all it begins to fade away.
Then I remember - the question! I fill my lungs and prepare to yell, I feel hot breath scratch my throat and a strangled cry shoot from my face. I try, again and again, screaming viciously, trying to turn my anxious howling into the words that I need to voice so desperately. But all that comes out is nonsense, just yelps and noise, no matter how hard I squeeze my chest and clench my tongue. Nothing, just noise. Then it all disappears.
The flowers, the canopy, the sky - all begin to pixelate, lose sharpness, as though a storm is clouding my reception. The world turns to fizz, at first oscillating softly, then more and more violently, until the landscape erupts into a foamy mess, no form nor feeling.
...
It's strange, like de ja vu - that feeling, suprise I guess - almost as if you have suddenly stumbled across your own mind. It is a clarity of vision when you have forgotten you have eyes, life gone supernova, awake, at last - again. When I realise I am dreaming the first thing I feel is a muted joy intermingled with a delirious wave of sweet horror. Now! Now is my chance!
I am standing on the rooftop of a building. I know this even though I see no other buildings in sight. The rooftop and everything around me is covered in a thick and lush canopy of healthy green vines. Vibrant purple flowers with large petals and glowing yellow pollen adorn the vines, and the sky is light yet a blanket of grey - no sun nor moon, a uniform embrace. I fall to my knees, scrambling to make the most of my time.
Palms to the ground I feel the grit of countless fragments, dirt and sand and soil. Sprinkled between the vines are twigs and leaves, and I lift some of them with my hands, grinding them with my fingers and watching the broken remains drift back to the rooftop. I test this world because I know I am dreaming. I snatch a flower, toss it into the air, follow its path intently. Is it real? How good is it, how accurate my mind's eye? Close to perfect, as far as I can tell. But, that's the problem; as soon as I begin to clamber through my dreams, as fast as I can tear it apart and make sense of it all it begins to fade away.
Then I remember - the question! I fill my lungs and prepare to yell, I feel hot breath scratch my throat and a strangled cry shoot from my face. I try, again and again, screaming viciously, trying to turn my anxious howling into the words that I need to voice so desperately. But all that comes out is nonsense, just yelps and noise, no matter how hard I squeeze my chest and clench my tongue. Nothing, just noise. Then it all disappears.
The flowers, the canopy, the sky - all begin to pixelate, lose sharpness, as though a storm is clouding my reception. The world turns to fizz, at first oscillating softly, then more and more violently, until the landscape erupts into a foamy mess, no form nor feeling.
...
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