Hover

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Fantasy  |  House: Spirit Space

Half of knowing that your dead is realizing it. A ghost story.

I'm beginning to consider that this will become the longest space of dreaming that I've ever experienced. A real record breaker.

Still waiting to awaken, I'm pacing, then coming to it again I stop and stare down at its face. The 'it' me, it's changing, shrinking before my eyes.

When do dreams transform into the realm of nightmare? I've had a few before this, but they were always jumping and disjointed. Here the shifting is so slow and subtle I can't pin-point an exact time.

One thing I'm certain of is, time is passing. When I look to the apartment window I can see the suns light as it falls upon it, inching its way, leaving shadows behind until the room meets darkness.

Dream measurement. It seems to be days, but I'm certain it's only been hours. Soon I'll be rising to start the morning, to begin a weeks well earned vacation from the reality of routine. What a job is everyday life.

Another night. This makes five in counting. The flashing red neon light from the market across the street meets it, the pulsing distortion makes its face seem like a moving skull. Watching again, I'm thinking the visual must come from a movie I remember from my childhood. Nightmare dreams made of memories, the thought makes me smile.

The new mornings arrival, number six by count, has me puzzeling while I pace. Such a silent scene, but far from scary.

Stopping by it I stare down again. It's shriveled open eyes, a shade of grey, draw me in. Are they reflecting my inner self, my ID? As I ponder all I've ever heard of interpreting dreams the thing lands. Watching as the fly crawls across the boney cheek and into a socket. What does it mean?

Waiting for it to reappear, to expand upon the unfolding interpretation, the pounding begins. Turning to the door I hear a muffeled voice.

" The smell...it's coming from in here."

The ones with uniforms, cameras and questions enter, reminding of standard bland crime drama stream. Viewing them as they move about the room and it, I sense their discomfort. With gloved hands they poke and prod and the fly takes flight, me the only one noticing. As I watch it buzz about I wonder, does it mean I'm more aware than many when it comes to acknowledging reality? Hum. 

When the proceeding is done some take it away, the corpse me, black bagged and zipped tight. Closing the door upon the theme I reflect. Is this about holding on to the past? I do tend to dwell.

In the still of the evening room I hover alone, waiting to wake. I know time is realitive, but this is the longest dream.


Submitted: June 10, 2021

© Copyright 2021 LE. Berry. All rights reserved.

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