Dreaming Reality
it doesn't matter if you're a dream, you're still my reality
Bright sun shining like the star it is. Green grass beneath my feet. I take both sensations in, everything overwhelming in my happy state. You’re behind me; I can hear your soft footsteps, quieted by the grass. I can hear you breathing, in, out, in, out. A slow steady rhythm I feel right down to the centre of my heart.
My soft pink shirt blows as the wind whistles a song in my ears. I spread my arms, feeling like I could fly anywhere and everywhere – I’m just like a bird. A bird that’s watched by you; though I know I’m being watched. I can sense your presence just as you can sense mine. We are one like that.
My smile is stunning, my hair tangling and without hesitating, I begin to hum. I don’t feel embarrassed; I know you like it when I hum. You said that it made me seem happy and you like it when I’m happy. I want to be happy for you, so hum I do. Only a simple tune, but a happy one.
I take a step and a twig cracks beneath my foot. When I look down, I see two broken halves, brown and one with a dying leaf. Something in my smile falters as I watch the twig without blinking – something forcing me to watch it. Sadness is in that twig and the dying leaf, a sadness of broken hearts and broken people.
I wonder who else has seen this twig and overlooked it. How many people have walked by here, just missing breaking that twig like I did? How many people have talked over it, laughed over it, kissed over it? A shiver runs through me.
A sigh is thrown into the wind so completely, it could have been the wind sighing – but I know it was you. Why, you hate when I break things, even if it’s accidental. The sigh can only mean one thing and that’s a bad thing. You are either upset or angry with me – sometimes I don’t know which I’d rather you be.
I don’t take another step as I can now feel your disappointment radiating through the air, directed at me. “I’m sorry,” I whisper and the wind rips the word from my lips. I think you hear me because your disappointment becomes less, the sadness in the air growing less. But nothing is as it seems so I keep my eyes to the ground and try not to break anything more.
Sometimes I wonder why you’re with me, why you chose me. I’m nothing and you – you are everything. You are spirit and heart, amazing and beautiful – and yet, you are broken. That is why you hate when I break things; enough things are broken without me having to break anything too.
You say I’ve fixed you, I’ve put together your broken pieces and you’re not broken anymore. I don’t believe you – I can still see the look in your eyes as you see something you don’t want to see. Sometimes I wish you to be blind so you won’t have to see what you see, but of course I feel bad every time I wish like that. Besides, I know you would still see those things.
I tell you, you are normal even if your eyes refuse to accept that. You don’t believe me. You think you are insane; a broken person that’s grief and pain has become so much it’s now imprinted in your vision. I still think you’re the sanest person I know – I think your hallucinations are more real than you know.
I can sense you coming closer behind me, your presence growing stronger and stronger until it’s nearly unbearable. But I love that; it makes me feel so good, like you’ll never disappear. Like you’ll always be here for me. Your hand lightly brushes aside my hair and you place a barely-there kiss on the back of my neck. Goosebumps rise on my skin.
Now I feel your presence growing lighter and lighter, weaker and weaker. I close my eyes and the wind rustles through my hair. I can still feel your lips against my skin though I know they’re not there anymore. An ant skitters over my foot and a pure smell fills my nose. The sun is just beginning to set and the beauty takes my breath away.
When I turn to you, you are already gone. Your footsteps are so light I didn’t hear them. Now that you are gone, now that I only have the memory of you, I have to wonder if you are real. Are you a real human or are you just a figment of my imagination?
”You’re just like a dream,” I sigh to the wind and the sun and the grass beneath my feet.
My soft pink shirt blows as the wind whistles a song in my ears. I spread my arms, feeling like I could fly anywhere and everywhere – I’m just like a bird. A bird that’s watched by you; though I know I’m being watched. I can sense your presence just as you can sense mine. We are one like that.
My smile is stunning, my hair tangling and without hesitating, I begin to hum. I don’t feel embarrassed; I know you like it when I hum. You said that it made me seem happy and you like it when I’m happy. I want to be happy for you, so hum I do. Only a simple tune, but a happy one.
I take a step and a twig cracks beneath my foot. When I look down, I see two broken halves, brown and one with a dying leaf. Something in my smile falters as I watch the twig without blinking – something forcing me to watch it. Sadness is in that twig and the dying leaf, a sadness of broken hearts and broken people.
I wonder who else has seen this twig and overlooked it. How many people have walked by here, just missing breaking that twig like I did? How many people have talked over it, laughed over it, kissed over it? A shiver runs through me.
A sigh is thrown into the wind so completely, it could have been the wind sighing – but I know it was you. Why, you hate when I break things, even if it’s accidental. The sigh can only mean one thing and that’s a bad thing. You are either upset or angry with me – sometimes I don’t know which I’d rather you be.
I don’t take another step as I can now feel your disappointment radiating through the air, directed at me. “I’m sorry,” I whisper and the wind rips the word from my lips. I think you hear me because your disappointment becomes less, the sadness in the air growing less. But nothing is as it seems so I keep my eyes to the ground and try not to break anything more.
Sometimes I wonder why you’re with me, why you chose me. I’m nothing and you – you are everything. You are spirit and heart, amazing and beautiful – and yet, you are broken. That is why you hate when I break things; enough things are broken without me having to break anything too.
You say I’ve fixed you, I’ve put together your broken pieces and you’re not broken anymore. I don’t believe you – I can still see the look in your eyes as you see something you don’t want to see. Sometimes I wish you to be blind so you won’t have to see what you see, but of course I feel bad every time I wish like that. Besides, I know you would still see those things.
I tell you, you are normal even if your eyes refuse to accept that. You don’t believe me. You think you are insane; a broken person that’s grief and pain has become so much it’s now imprinted in your vision. I still think you’re the sanest person I know – I think your hallucinations are more real than you know.
I can sense you coming closer behind me, your presence growing stronger and stronger until it’s nearly unbearable. But I love that; it makes me feel so good, like you’ll never disappear. Like you’ll always be here for me. Your hand lightly brushes aside my hair and you place a barely-there kiss on the back of my neck. Goosebumps rise on my skin.
Now I feel your presence growing lighter and lighter, weaker and weaker. I close my eyes and the wind rustles through my hair. I can still feel your lips against my skin though I know they’re not there anymore. An ant skitters over my foot and a pure smell fills my nose. The sun is just beginning to set and the beauty takes my breath away.
When I turn to you, you are already gone. Your footsteps are so light I didn’t hear them. Now that you are gone, now that I only have the memory of you, I have to wonder if you are real. Are you a real human or are you just a figment of my imagination?
”You’re just like a dream,” I sigh to the wind and the sun and the grass beneath my feet.