11-17-12

Insanity knows no boundaries.



Half of the time I don’t even know what I’m thinking about or doing anymore. This life feels like a dream inside of a dream inside of another dream.

Nothing seems real anymore.

I find myself having elusive conversations more and more. Sometimes I can recall what people are saying to me only for a brief moment until I see a speaking face with no sound. The person in front of me becomes a blur, and they look as though they’re in some other dimension. Or maybe I’m the one trailing into dimensions far beyond this one.. I always felt as if I belonged somewhere other than here, anyways.

This world always seemed like the only place that ever was until recently. When I am asleep, my dreams seem so realistic. When I am awake, it feels like I’m actually dreaming.

There was a place I went to in my mind the other night. It was a valley so vast with a distant tree line encircling the rolling hills and streams. The colors of auburns and gold were so vibrant as if Autumn were the only season that existed there. The skies were cloudy and gray, but very cheery nonetheless. In the center of the valley was a concrete block wall which had been painted an off white color. Kind of like a bare wall you would see inside of a school building. There were colorful drawings stretching the entire wall. All of the drawings were things I had drawn some time or another in my childhood. From random doodles to assignments in grade school, they were all there, stretched boldly across the wall, but only on the outer side.

The wall was not a single straight line, but curved to the left to make an L shape. Along the wall were a series of doors. When walking to the other side of the wall expecting to see that the doors had led to nowhere, I was surprised that the doors were only on the outer side of the wall, but not on the inside just as the drawings had been.

Out of curiosity I went over to where the doors were and one by one began opening them. Even though the L shaped wall had seemed relatively short (maybe the length of a large garden shed) the doors seemed never ending.

When I opened each door I found that they had all led to its own individual classroom. Each classroom was decorated slightly different. Some were obviously for younger children, and some were for older the further down I went. The funny thing about the decorations, were that none of them were real, but that they were pictures painted along the perimeter of the room. In each room there was only one real item. In the direct center of the rooms was a single book. All of the books were different from one another. None of the books were books I have ever read in my life, but were the most creative and captivating novels I had ever seen. The stories written were those that are unable to ever be comprehended in this world.

After reading through the last book in the last room (as if time did not exist) I stepped outside into the valley and began closing each and every door that I had opened. When reaching the end of the wall, I noticed that there was a door that I had neglected to see (or maybe it wasn’t there before?). When opening that door I saw another classroom except in the center of the room was a gigantic book that was open wide and out of the book was a staircase leading into a place I couldn’t see without stepping inside the room. With uncertainty I turned my head back to the valley to get one last glance of the Autumn hills before I made the decision to explore my new discovery, but had noticed that the scenery was changing. The skies became darker and it had started to rain. As quickly as the lightning began to strike, I had woken up.

I find it unfair to be able to remember with such intensity something that remains only a dream.

I find it unfair to be able to remember something so insignificant to me in this world, yet to not be able to focus on a conversation in reality.

And with this, I find it most unfair to not feel pain in these wonderlands I visit each night, but instead to wake up to this blurred reality with a constant ache that never lets up.

Tonight I am comforting my throbbing head with a pair of oversized sunglasses. It may be dim, but my eyes feel so sensitive to any light that travels through.

I lie back on this bed and close my broken eyes, and continue to dream of this place that does not exist..