at times, a moment can send chills down the nape of your neck. you find yourself amused for a brief sense in time until your gaze traps a sensation. i’m allocating these dreams into cotton induced compartments.
i seal my face on a seam much too perfectly sewn for even my own ambitions. these distant illusions push reality to the border and i awake to salty lips and a mind confused as to why i'm seeing these portraits. songs combine into one and i hum a familiar tune as the day progresses. fate never returns my phone calls and i am left with a monotone vibration that of which causes me to question these dreams. i strongly dislike leaving voicemails, it’s always so awkward therefore i prefer to type frantically until the thought leaves me.
knuckles are bruised and show signs of rug burn. perhaps during a peaceful slumber, these fingers dig into sheets folding fingertips into origami treasures. it is to the point where i search for another soul to press my palm against theirs and allow the connection to exchange. feel their lucid dreams through the textures. human to human. body to soul. typically we tend to forget these thoughts occurring during the REM cycle. i agree that this phenomenon has its truths, however, i believe that the most penetrating insights remain with us. internalized. not for a lifetime, but moreso for those moments that count. moments that defy gravity. moments that inhibit dialogue. where one’s inner conversation glimmers a chord within another. not auto-tuned . organic and fair trade.
the dream, that is… it houses itself just behind the pupils until the transmission is found through a different individual. the east wing connects with the west and the compass is aligned. plant a spine on cold cement and swing your eyes toward the stars. the universe understands how these things work. it guides the ozone layers as you illuminate your channels. with one brief touch, the body to soul connection is heightened. in a sense, the dream is merely a tease. you can see the movement visually and even view yourself in a third person perspective. bodies collide as souls return from a sensational distraction. tangents such as these have me smiling in my sleep. you slowly lift eyelids and realize that every scene you just viewed was a dream. you have just but a sequence of images lingering in your mind to carry over onto a daily routine.
set forth these limbs and now the day can begin. sun peaks over mountaintops signaling the trees to brush from side to side. wind touches leaves and the connection commences. give the people a little fresh air and you’d be amazed how many frequencies float above convoluted minds. though hunger coils abdomens, telephone wires spark as we journey through a conversation that’s digestible. it is here where the dream began. cautious to tune into the same element, i revert to shifting centers of focus. this poses as a challenge; i seldom pass on any opportunity to engage in a friendly competition. look, the trees are speaking with the air now… hinting secrets that only an illusion can discern. toes tremble in shoes and palms moisten with perspiration. i am fearful that this is all a dream yet again, and my pillow will be the only devise i have to settle these fingertips. wind meets my earlobes and as hair rises from flesh, i pinch my lashes tighter. slide the snooze for a minute longer.
allow this moment to foster.
p.l.h,
a
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