by ·Comments Off on He was on the road

This Dream seemed more like fragments of thoughts than a story or narrative. I woke up in bed and again tried so hard to move. I laid here in this half awake and half asleep state, and tried for hours to move something. I wanted to scream. I wanted to pull these sheets down and see myself. I couldn’t even remember for a long moment what I looked like anymore. For a moment i was terrified that my body wasn’t really here, that this was just a form I invented to make sense of my new world. Then i could see the edges of my body laying in state under the blankets around me.

I felt back to all the moments in the dream, or dreams, i had last night. Trying as i have been to form some sort of pattern. Something that will give me a clue as to where I am. How i got here and how i can get out of this room.

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by ·Comments Off on It aged down to bone

I feel like my mind is running in a fury. A speeding barrel rolling down a hill. The force of the speed trying to throw the staves off, at the same time the impact of each connection with the ground seeming to want to push the walls inside. The forces balanced so perfectly, nothing could move in either direction. The forces are balanced. How to explain what that means, what it feels like to have the push and pull of speed balanced out. One thing could go wrong, one moment faster or slower could destroy the balance so quickly. At the same time though, the balance is amazing. My mind seems to be running along between being unable to think clearly, and also seeing all of the things around me more cleanly than ever before. Like my voice is stuck in my head, but also, my thoughts are clear. I had a flashback to my first moments of remembering. How long ago that all seemed.

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by ·Comments Off on Shells locked on shells

I was at the ocean again. In the water, or at the edge of the water. I wasn’t sure where in the world i was. I wasn’t sure if this even was our world, but I knew it must be. None of my dreams are ever in places that don’t seem in some way real and whole. I don’t think even my strangest dreams seem to be unlinked to some form of reality. Even the ones that seem surreal and crazy, seem to be set and populated with real people, and real places. Just linked in someway to a fantastic setting that seems more of a movie set than real life.

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by ·Comments Off on Mountainside

It felt like snow. Snow all over the side of a high mountain. Cliffs that ran into the air so high they couldn’t be real. It looked like grey granite that no one had climbed up in a thousand years. It looked like a place where people would dig into the rockface to find warmth. Somewhere beyond where life should even think of going. Covering all of that gray and cold was the snow.

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by ·Comments Off on Pulling in a single thread

 I’ve decided that i should at least try to move a single thread on this bed.  It has to be possible at least in theory.  I should be able to have my body pull on the thread.  It seems that there must be something wrong with my body. There must be right?  Or I would be able to move.  At least my fingers?  They are there right under the the sheets.  I can almost see them.  Continue reading

by ·Comments Off on Motion and sandstone

I found this floating full form in my mind.  It wasn’t in pieces, and it wasn’t something that showed up and i thought about.  I was awake, and there was this fragment sitting there.  Exactly like this, in my mind and frozen.  It didn’t have an ending, and I don’t know where it was from, and where it goes.  This seems like a fragment that was lodged into my mind, and floated there until it dislodged.

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by ·Comments Off on Running Waves

It was a joy. A joy of so much freedom last night. So much and so long since i have had dreams of water. So long without my dreams of waves, and water, and running. I couldn’t believe it. When i woke up in my dream, i was already moving. I remember the water was green, and blue. It felt like electricity, and life itself. I remember the moon was high in the sky, and I could almost feel the waves being pulled up.

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by ·Comments Off on Falls first in Madness

I dreamt of flocks of birds last night. I still don’t know why i call my sleep ‘night’. I don’t know when day ends and night begins. I don’t know how to tell my time apart from waking to dreams. Last night though, their were birds. Small brown birds. Thousands of them clinging to vines on a wall. Brown leaves falling away, and the birds were everywhere.

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by ·Comments Off on iCE AND THE WINTER WIND

Shouldn’t i be able to hear the wind? I think i might be underground. I don’t know where or when this thought was in my head, but now I can’t get rid of it. I know that even in a building of stone and metal, something like a factory or a hospital, or something strong like a skyscraper, i should be able to feel the vibration of the wind, in some way. Especially since i have so little sensory data to work on here. But there isn’t anything. I never feel any movement, and no noise at all. Where am i right now?

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It was a wind through a tunnel. Something narrow and cold. I know it was cold like steel, or silver. The color was silver, and even in the dark, the walls glowed and shone. Something burnished and almost alive. The wind was a rush. Like water in a valley, it was pushed into and through this passageway. Blowing with a steady flow, and it wasn’t until i stood there for a while that i noticed the changes in the wind.

It started out that i noticed the hairs on my arms. They would blow, and then for a brief moment, slowly rise a tiny fraction. Then, back to where they were. This is when i realized that the wind wasn’t constant. The tunnel was breathing. Or the wind was breathing and the tunnel was channeling the breath by me. Either way, it was subtle and only in my stillness did i notice the changes.

I remembered as a child i stood on a hillside that had been mined years before. The mountain was full of holes where people had dug and dug. I was climbing on the mountain, and remember finding a hole in the ground. Just a tiny hole, maybe a foot across. I would have walked by it without noticing, except the wind coming out of it made this sound. Like a soft moaning noise. The wind was coming from inside the mountain. It was a chimney for the mines below, to carry air into the mine, and blow the spent air into the mountain.

I haven’t thought of that hole, and that wind, in so long. I remember standing on the side of the hole, and staring down into the dark, with my hand over the hole, feeling the wind. I was frozen then, and I am frozen now.

This is the first time i remember being a child. That means i must be an adult now, if i remember being a child before? I know that I seem to be adult sized here in bed. I know that I must be fully grown to know the things i know. I know this for sure, but I don’t remember being a child. Except this memory now, i remember that so well. Who dug that chimney? What did the people in the mine feel when they stood benieth the space in the mountain where the air was focused on escaping.

Now after years, i stood again on this metal surface, and it brought me back in time and i remember. I remember being small. And i know that it seems real, and seems like me. This place i am now is like standing in that tunnel. Why are the only colors i can see in the dark glowing silver? How can i see glowing in the dark? I am sure it is dark. I know light from dark at least, and I know my eyes are open now. How long have we changed to have the sense of wind on our arms to give us this information, even when everything else is hidden. To stop and know the motion of wind, to know that the air itself breaths sometimes, and changes in such subtle ways.