Wrap My Dreams

The bird flew disintegrated, the feeling again of hopefulness I felt, but then the horrible realization, that this happiness was fleeting, that these feet were being dragged unconsciously, that I was dreaming and was sure to wake up any moment now.

But I enjoyed the moment, the sun was darkening, and the trees that I moved along, dead in the leaves, but dancing at the root, and I understood very few of what was happening in me. I looked directly into the mirror I had devised, the moment I realized what my true personality represented and wondered when I would wake up, sweaty, and alone, and drenched in the sadness that was so usual to me.

I did walk more and saw the bird still flying above me. It went beyond clouds and then came back with strange, green eyes and with a laughter so strange that I only nodded at the spectacle. I had grown dreary of the world, which was very beautiful, and I wanted a little understanding of where this dream was coming and going. I knew I had to wake up but the more it went on, the more I walked, the more I suffered in silence amongst the bliss I was feeling, the less I felt like going away.

What if I could stay in this place and just accept my second reality? After all, I chuckled, there was no advantage to go back to a place to be miserable. I could be happier on my own, walking along, being talked upon by the sky that stood above me, and I could levitate anywhere I wanted, I could conjure up any imagine, I could swallow any object, and I could spit out any magic that I desired. But I did none of that.

I didn’t do that, and I didn’t know why I wasn’t doing that. I was keeping myself in a moment with a bird ever so appearing, with trees always mandating, their stature squarely moving upwards, and me, waiting, but not doing, and not acting, for change. Somebody had to wake me up, sooner or later, in the real world, someone would come to me and kiss my head and tell me everything was going to be ok. That I was screaming in pain, that I was losing something important, it did not matter because this was a nightmare in which everything was beautiful and perfect and I felt contentment, but there was nothing to feel that towards. I was happy with nothing and lost at all times, and if I continued, I could find the same.

The movement continued, the bird chirped on my ear, and I felt the real touch of someone outside. I was soon to be woken up, and, if that wasn’t enough, I felt nostalgic about the very world I should have appreciated more. Lifetimes were spent here, a word like no other could describe this place, but the more I stayed, the more I wanted to come back, even though I didn’t before. I screamed outside, which did not surprise me, but it did not bring me out.

I saw the bird going away, I saw the trees melting themselves, I saw the sun firing into all directions, extinguishing itself. But I wasn’t going away, I was staying put in that place, waiting for the pure inhalation of the world, but my throat was dry, my neck was interrupted, a slash had changed me, in a second, in a razor of wind, thought a paradise to accept my sleep.