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.
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