We dream dreamy dreams under warm blankets and quiet stars
no noise no clamor to fill the atmosphere. The song of a thousand
silences vibrate in unison with breathing. Each exhale a new movement
through the universe. In and out, drift solemnly, like the ghost on a row
boat wading through fog and sorrow. A heart hollow to the tune of love
and jubilation. Only haze, vague and out of focus. The fuzz of an old
photograph bearing faces long forgotten. Gone, with the seconds,
minutes, and centuries that have been and never will be again. The one
we all share. Soon after closing our eyes to reality. Long after the sun
has faded from view, long before it should return once more, leaving the
moon as the sky’s only companion. When our heartbeats have slowed,
relaxed, a breath before fatal. That’s when it begins. The portal to the
other end of our mind. The room of warped mirrors. Reflections of our
ideas and experiences. twisted manifestations of thought and memory
for us to analyze through cryptic imagery and distorted stimuli. Here is
where we encounter all we admire and all we disdain, mashed into one
contorted vortex of sight and emotion. This is the dream…
Apr 28, 2013
Apr 28, 2013 at 3:47 PM UTC
We dream dreamy dreams under warm blankets and quiet stars
no noise no clamor to fill the atmosphere. The song of a thousand
silences vibrate in unison with breathing. Each exhale a new movement
through the universe. In and out, drift solemnly, like the ghost on a row
boat wading through fog and sorrow. A heart hollow to the tune of love
and jubilation. Only haze, vague and out of focus. The fuzz of an old
photograph bearing faces long forgotten. Gone, with the seconds,
minutes, and centuries that have been and never will be again. The one
we all share. Soon after closing our eyes to reality. Long after the sun
has faded from view, long before it should return once more, leaving the
moon as the sky’s only companion. When our heartbeats have slowed,
relaxed, a breath before fatal. That’s when it begins. The portal to the
other end of our mind. The room of warped mirrors. Reflections of our
ideas and experiences. twisted manifestations of thought and memory
for us to analyze through cryptic imagery and distorted stimuli. Here is
where we encounter all we admire and all we disdain, mashed into one
contorted vortex of sight and emotion. This is the dream…
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