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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
Random dream and a twisted perspective on life.

Submitted: March 23, 2007

A A A | A A A

Submitted: March 23, 2007



Clarity-a single focused frame in the web of time-a brief flash of understanding.

The waves lap at my feet as I sink slowly into the receding muddy sand.  Before me the sea beats its steady cadence against the shore.  I can see nothing but breaking waves that melt into the horizon to meet an ocean of stars.

I smile to myself.  This place should not exist.  I should not be able to see for as close to eternity as one can ever get and not have that image intruded upon by signs of other humans.  But before me there is only ocean, flawless and unbroken.  I look behind me and see the clusters of buildings of the city.  This place should not exist.

The waves continue to lap at my feet.  I turn to the boy to my left and can not help but smile.  He smiles back, as lost in the enormity of the peace as I am.

Clarity-seeing him as he truly is, as he was meant to be.His deficiencies and flaws make him perfect in my eyes.  To me he is everything, now and forever, that I require to be happy.  I find myself still baffled that he doesn't find my inconsistencies and eccentric personality maddening.

He reaches for my hand.  It amazes me that two people can be so completely matched for each other.  That even our bodies seem to meld perfectly together.  He pulls me to him and wraps his arms around me.  There is safety in his touch.  Love in his voice.  Home in his eyes.

I sigh contentedly as we watch the waves roll into the land.

The shrill beeping of my alarm wakes me.  My eyes open to a cold dark room.  To my left is nothing but empty bed.  The ocean is gone.  The place should not exist, and it doesn't.  I try to shake the dream from my mind.  It's funny how my subconscious clings to things I'd rather it forgot, and forgets things I'd rather it remember.

As I get dressed to go do the things I hate, I realize that there is nothing.  He isn't mine, and there are no peaceful places left in this world for me.  There are no places where I can cease to be angry and unhappy and just exist in harmony with the world around me.

The dreams are what make us real.  Are they?  Or are they just a constant reminder of how we want things to be, of how we need them to be?  It matters little in all honesty.  At the end of the day, I'm still going to tell you I'm moving on, but you'll never know the truth.  You'll never know any of it.  As it turns out, all I have is my dreams, meaningless as they are, and I'll take them.  If they are all I can have, then I will take them.  I'm used to being lonely anyway.

And it's not like the ocean won't still be there if I ever change my mind.

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