Windy Days and Trash Cans

To dream a dream of such brilliance in beauty, only to have the figment pinched away from the dauntless crevices of my mediocre mind was almost too much for my fragile state of being to endure. For how could the life of reality hold any significance when compared to the details of such a stunningly beautiful dream? Perhaps, I am simply over thinking myself once again. Clearly, a dream does not hold the power to manipulate the entire course and mental processes of my current life. Rationally speaking, one should not base their newly defined thought process merely on the premises of a dream. Yet, it is correctly stated that at times I am fully capable of submitting to various irrationalities, so much, in fact, that I often place my faith in many ludicrous ideas. It is undoubtedly a flaw in my cherished mind that, although seemingly harmless, could hold as a potential threat to the lines of my very existence. So, why, considering I know the dangers of irrationalities, do I suddenly feel the need to alter the entire pedestal my life stands on merely for the sake of an unconscious reality? For what does this dream have over me? The more I ponder the complexity of my situation I can only concur that the very hook the dream has me reeled in on is the desire of love and the absence it carries in my life. It is no lie that I do feel the ghost of loneliness hovering my soul several times during the achingly long endeavors of each day. It seems that lately my days have grown long and tiresome, nearly exhausting. I hopelessly agree with the current standing definition of insanity, for I live this mocking definition every day. I can say that I in no way live a terrible life. Indeed, my job may not be the most well‐paid but I do not struggle to pay any of my bills. Being a cashier may not place me as successful, but the sight of new faces and repetitive small talk is comforting to my constant loneliness. I guess it is only normal that I dream of finding a love all my own. You see, this dream has me thinking that I am living in the wrong direction. This unconscious rendering is leading me to believe my once comfortable life holds a deep void that I desire to be filled. I have never truly sought for love, I have always supposed that if the phenomenon happens then it happens and if it don't, well I need not think so dreadfully. I still have my doubts on the basis of this dream, for the character, whose story I was following, could not have been my own. Never have I been so dreamy eyed and star lit. This man could not have been me. Indeed, his features were mine, as was his mannerisms and stances, but I fail to imagine that I could ever be so wonder filled and mind adrift. I have always kept my mind sharp and keen, it is an aspect of mine that I truly admire, but here I am as a child would be. I would not be surprised if this strange character were to begin frolicking among the tulips. Yet, at the same time I can't help but hope that maybe if I were to fall in love, then I would surely become this dimwitted individual. In truth, I wouldn't mind being oblivious to the negatives that build pressure against my temple. I would be very comforted to know that life is going rather smoothly. However, my pessimistic mind set doesn't allow me to travel such fairytale idealistic paths, instead my thoughts roam on the night time alley of a grungy lower‐class city neighborhood. It is odd, moments ago I was comfortable in my repetitive life, yet, the deeper I delve into the analysis of such a dream, the more I realize how much my life is missing. The most peculiar thing to me is the way I can distinctly remember the dream. It was strangely surreal, truly vivid. It is as if I am watching the dream happen at this very moment in some sort of hallmark movie. The entire plot is cemented into my brain and I can't bring myself to wander away from the fragments of the dream I still have left. The dream began gloomy as rain was pouring from the hot, sterling sky causing an unnatural darkness, for what seemed like afternoon. I had been glancing at her for a steady five minutes, she was a young girl seemingly to be in her late teens. There she stood dancing in the rain, eyes closed and face stretched out to the sky above inviting every raindrop to kiss her cheeks. I admit I should have just left her alone, but seeing her twirling in the rain? It was beautiful, enchanting even. I wanted to get a better look, I wanted to say hello and ask what in the world she was doing. It being springtime the rain was quite often, once a week or so. Even with the many rain showers this month I had never seen this girl until now, but here she was in the middle of the street, mistreated from the rain, twirling and dancing. She looked like she was in another world, uncaring of her surroundings. All she seemed to care for in that moment was the feeling of the rain against her skin. Her hair was long and blonde, reaching just above the tip of her breast. She was in a white dress just above her knees, vines tracing the scalloped hem and a dark denim jacket to cover up her wings. I hoisted my khaki dreary-day trench coat from the coat tree and proceeded to walk outside, hesitating at the porch steps my brain and body reluctant to go into the harsh rain. My curiosity getting the best of me, I went into a half run into the glistening street. You could hear the pattering of the rain hitting the pavement with slight force. The rain was gentle sounding, as if several tiny guinea pigs were running the streets of Reese. I could hear a faint sound of thunder, it was distant and far. I trampled through newly formed puddles feeling the water begin to soak through the bottom of my jeans. I stopped just 5 feet within her distance. I could feel the words bubbling up from inside me, but to no avail, for no sound dared to leave my lips. It was as if by the time the words had reached the tip of my tongue they had evaporated into mere thoughts. "Don't you just love the rain?" She asked in a delighted, exasperated tone. I guess she noticed me, then again how could she not? I was only a short distance away, but I guess watching her get lost, I, too, had lost the path in which my own mind was once travelling. I was baffled, stuttering on my thoughts before attempting to answer her simple yet complex question. Did I like the rain? It's alright, gives me a break from the day's errands, it's peaceful and serene. More than that I like how easily it is to fall asleep to. The gentle sound of the rain hammering the roof begging to come inside makes me feel cozy and puts my mind at ease. It's creates the stage of a perfect, blissful slumber. "What's your name?" I requested, shrugging off her previous inquiry. She allowed her gaze to turn away from the rumbling sky above and opened her eyes glaring at me. Her eyes, they got me even more lost than before and they were even more enchanting than the frail raindrops against her silhouette. They were deceivably striking and I once again found myself stumbling on words. Her eyes had blue hues that were like that of the pale blue Hydrangea macrophylla. They were electrifying in a way almost unimaginable and it felt as if I could swim right on through them with the greatest of ease. I felt that if I looked close enough I would find wispy clouds floating through them, each cloud holding onto a dream. "Sophia." She spoke softly interrupting my thoughts. She gave me a quick grin and looked as if right then she would have walked away. My words caught on my tongue, I was unsure of what to say. Here before me is what some may call an impossibility, an enchanting miracle from somewhere far from earth. "Sophia." I let her name trail off my tongue, it tasted blissful as it was leaving my mouth dry and empty. I could say it a million times and never could it lose its bliss. "I don't know if you noticed, but it's sort of raining, maybe you should come inside. You could get sick standing out here like this, Sophia." I was almost yelling over the rain. I approached her almost unknowingly, her essence had complete control over me and all I wanted to do was get her out of the rain. Sophia looked like she belonged in the rain, like it was her home and I was kidnapping her. She took a few steps back with a smile and did a small twirl before standing still again. She took a deep inhale and let it all go. It was in that moment she had breathed the entire earth. "I just absolutely love the rain! Have you ever stood in the rain, walked in it? It feels like it's just washing you of everything. You feel almost water proof even though you are soaking wet. Then you go back inside and the minute you are out of the rain you feel trapped and you can't help but go back to your ill defying muse. When the cool breeze sweeps over my face and the first few drops of rain touches my cheeks.... oh! It's almost a heavenly feeling. A shiver runs down my body, giving me goose bumps and the sweet smell of wet mud brings back old memories that thrash and burn. The tender plants & flowers look so refreshing on getting wet in the rain. Rain, it washes the tears away. I can cry and pretend it's just raindrops from the beautiful sky. I love the power of rain to prove you wrong. You dash into the rain in a fit of pique hoping for absolution, denial, something earth-shattering, and life altering. Instead, you get really wet, you blink your eyes a lot, and all the silly movie inspired needs you thought to take from the rain become background noise. The rain takes control, it commands your attention. Soon there is nothing but the rain. You sit your butt down in the wet grass, no longer caring if the neighbors see you or what they may be thinking. You just sit there in the rain, thunder and lightning creating the backdrop to the white noise echoing in your skull. It's like shock therapy and meditation in one neat package. I love the tiny pitter pattering sounds that make everything seem so huge, so endless. I just love it." She was rambling, but it was beautiful. Her words were poetry, words that if you caught in a jar could be worth millions. I didn't understand what she meant, but I wanted to. I wanted to listen and feel the words, know every meaning they possessed. Sophia looked at me again, she knew what I was thinking and continued with her endless array of words. "Sometimes it's just nice to feel like everything else is meaningless for a few moments, you know? It's almost like a fantasy. As if you cannot feel it with your skin, but actually feel it, if that makes any sense. It’s a beautiful feeling having every doubt finally pushed away. Every tear following the rain into the sewage drain." She ended her lecture there and walked up to me grabbing me by the arm. "Do you have any tea?" I laughed at her pleasantness. Her question was so off-guard, so unforeseen. I nodded and led her to my small, petite home. Sophia sat down on the cheerless, worn couch and I took a place down beside her. "You never told me your name, you know?" She spoke as she smiled her fantasy smile again. I felt myself melt a little. The alarm started buzzing loud and clear, snapping me back into my conscious reality. It was so sudden I could barely reminisce in my last few moments with her as I opened my saddened eyes, leaving her behind to wander my unconsciousness never to be dreamt of again.

It's a funny thing with dreams:

They can feel so real.