Alone. Thoughts are gone, sight is somewhere else, and the breath of the world has frozen over for but the merest of seconds. The deepest of emotions are alone, lost in neverwhere as if a gentle breeze swept away the foundation of the present. Everything is thus transparent. Nothing is simply true, given the circumstantial evidence surmounting against reality. All that remains are the past interwoven with fiction.
Daydreams surpass the vision in realm space-time, both past and future weaving in gentle patterns. Images of another place, another time, another being emerge superimposed upon what should be. And thoughts are lost, sight is inward, and the breath is submerged and shallow. It's real, and for a moment the dream has surpassed reality and smells, sights, sounds and feelings are overabundant in the mind.
The question, then, is what is truly remembered if the mind could be replayed for a larger audience? Is it the mindless gaze into the air somewhere beyond the envisioner's face? Or is it the beautiful mindscape? Is the dream real for memory? In which case is it reality of its own accord?
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Thoughts to ponder as more comes.
I'm sitting in my apartment, on the phone with Lindsey. We've been discussing your blog on New York. We were kind of sad that we didn't have anything new to read and then BAM - new post! Squeeeeee!!!!
ReplyDeleteYou deliver like Dominoes, my friend.
Discussing my blog over the phone? Wait! Why not discuss it ON my blog? Hahaha. I want to know what you're talking about!
ReplyDeleteHope you enjoy... I wrote this one as I was falling asleep with Nyquil.