Untold Truth

It wasn't right this night
I told you secrets that I wouldn't normally speak of
lost in a world of liquid poison
I revealed my soul to you
there is no backing out now
the unfortunate consequences of innocence to experience
maybe i'm just scared
scared of what you warned me about
My fingers are numb and my mind is frozen
I'll see you later.

Flurries of Winter

I don't dream about real life, which has made the past few days all the more disconcerting.  When I close my eyes for the night, power down my brain and drift off to REM-land I conquer mountains, fight the wolves, or remember how to fly.  I think it's because I'm innately bored of real life and its idiosyncrasies.  Life's a journey, but dreaming has all the really cool parts of it (and the stuff you'd rather do).

In the past week my life has been filled with plenty of events to keep me busy.  So many, in fact, I find myself unable to leave real life where it belongs (in real life, and far from my sleeping form).

I'm sleeping underneath the wonderful "Longmont Lights", a huge full-wall mural that gives the illusion of sleeping beneath the stars of the front range.  I've also got a temporary bedroom with computers and endless entertainment at my command.  I've got a position where I sell weed for hours and work in the industry that suppose to help people feel better.  I've got a wonderful companion that supports and understands me better then anyone else I've ever known.  I even started feeling optimistic about a major move in the next couple weeks.

And yet, I've lost the ability to dream about fantasies and a flower bed filled with roses and candles.  I'm way too caught up in real life.  While I'm determined to taste, touch, hear, and see everything there's got to be a divider line between my personal fantasy time and the battle with real life, and there's a sinking feeling I'm losing.

Sometimes I miss the days where the world would warp, or when the music danced until the sun came up.  Sometimes I wonder what happened to the people I knew back then, to the person I was back then, to all the memories that have fused together in a jigsaw phantasmagoria waiting to be unraveled or rewound.  I wonder if they'll ever return, with different faces and different places, or if that's all cataloged away for younger-years.

This weekend will be an escape to make dream come true.  I have seen the first pretentious snow in Boulder, but hope for flurries soon in the next few days.

Interestingly enough, a song randomly played as I'm about to end this post: "Dream About Me" by Moby.  What an incredible synchronicity.