Dreams

You know when you have one of those dreams that leaves a sour taste in your mouth? You wake up and until its confirmed that it wasnt simply a dream you remain stagnant within a nightmare. The day seems to drag on as you try and cope with the weights in your mind.

Images, clear images of a masochistic mind. Why do we have these tendencies? Incessantly we attract all the negative thoughts and are ever so quick to forget the good. Is it human nature to picture all the different scenarios?

I dreamt of sex, of lust and passion. There was so ounce of love in my dream just simply a sweaty yearning desire for flesh. Lights flashed, music roared and bodies moaned. Wonderful right? Yet i was simply an observer. I peered through open doors to watch the debauchery between the one guy I truly love and random women. Yes, women, plural, more than one, each caressing his body with their hands, their breasts, their thighs. Enveloping his body with an innate animal instinct - pleasure.


He played with their lust, engaged each girl with his piercing eyes and seemlessly orchestrated a beautiful harmony. What a weird sensation, no matter how much it hurt, the weight in my heart was paralizing. I felt as the life literally vanished from my eyes and was replaced with a defeated aftermaths of a shattered heart.
If only I could make him look at me.
If only he would turn and see how each thrust of his hips he simply plunges his knife deeper into my heart.
This is it, that culminating point of unbearable pain. The irony of this stage is that it reaches a level where the body has to shut off. The heart implores the mind to disconnect before it implodes. As the impulse rages through my body I feel myself tumble and gasp as a solitary tear grazes my face. The sounds drown out and is replaced by a constant buzz. The colors recede out and vanish alongside the tear.

Numb.
Defeated.
You watch silently as waves of pleasure overpower his body and leave his mind blank momentarily.

The irony - for a brief second you feel connected with him, empathic in his blankness.

His body begins to relax and emotions return to his face. He is calm and composed as am I; regardless of the inner turmoil. I try catch his eye but its futile, I am nearly invisible now. All along he thought I waited patiently in the room across the hall. He dresses and heads for the door.
I sprint across the door and open the door to the break of dawn.
Awake again and yet dragging the weight of a dream, patiently awaiting confirmation of my biggest fear - numbly floating through existence.