dreams and visions

Unlike Our Waking Lives – Part 3

Part 1 – here
Part 2 – here

Touching ground at the house’s front stoop, I found release from the stairway’s imaginary vortex. Encasing the doorstep were two walls of lattice, oddly suspended in impossible green ivy – impossible because it was a shade of green only found exiting Malaysian assembly lines, where pint-sized slave workers callous their fingers painting plastic in effort to earn a day’s worth of life, and boats laden with other sorts of landfill fodder then transport that ivy-colored plastic to arrive in places like this, where we’ve better things to do than grow life. So it’s stolen away – woven into additional, lattice-shaped plastic. And this plastic embedded plastic, it ushered me on to the place I wanted to avoid, but knew I could not.

I stood outside the front door of the miserable stationary house, faux wood door staring me in the face with its sign placed at a shallow height that made me wonder if its words were intended to be read by a man’s navel. It was makeshift, could hardly be called a sign, really – scrawled by a childish hand with marker of blue, which appeared to drain itself of ink as it progressed down the green page of craft paper, like the marker had sputtered the last of its artistic life, sacrificing its final breaths for the sake of that stupid sign, or the sign maker wrote the text vertically, after the paper had been taped up, skewed to the right, suspended by two overlong strips of invisible tape.


Pitiful sign. Silly, wretched, pitiful sign. Couldn’t keep away a damn thing with that sign. Couldn’t prevent a case of the sniffles from entering the house with that sign. The inevitability of the moment crept its way up my back and crawled into my mind – my mind that didn’t feel much like mine in the moment. I felt stolen from. If there were anything brave, anything strong, anything of merit that was added to my character in nearly four decades of life, it was stripped from me in the dwindling light; any dignity that came with being the person I thought I was became vapor at the reading of those words in the sputtering blue marker.
It could have been me. That useless sign – could have been me writing it, just slapping it up there, and wasn’t it my muscles moving my legs to the base of that door and my own hand, hypnotized by the groaning breeze and twilight’s depression into reaching forth to grasp the knob, jiggle it, and why no surprise that the infernal thing wasn’t even locked; for all the foreboding which inspired the sign’s hasty composition, no one thought to lock the damn door? I pushed this door inward, so lacking in weight because of its fakeness, sensed the stationary house take a breath with the opening of its airway, pressed into disconsolate gloom.

13 replies »

  1. Wow!! It could have been my sign too. Really? You can get that close in your dream? What is up with that? My hands shake as I type this.

    I am where I would have needed to write ad post it in my mind right now. I think I did with crayons on cardboard. Takes me back to that dark nasty room. I can even smell it.


    • Isn’t the human spirit incredible? I think it’s close to you because we are all closer to one another than we realize. It’s a great and powerful mystery to me that you and I have never met and yet we connected with something common between us. And we are not so unusual. This happens to people every day because we are all born of the same enduring heart.

      • You are absolutely right on about the human spirit. We really are magic.

        So you know this stayed with me all day & evening. It was not an unsafe feeling or emotion evoked, but one that I’d hardly call comfortable.

        I do not believe we have never met, just that we are no longer aware. We are part of a large universe with a small world. I do know from experience for what it is worth, that some souls are more keenly attuned to the energy that we all provide. I have never experienced anything as real feeling though. If I was not aware of this myself I would never have believed it.

        Do you do this often?

        You either timed a very weird irony by chance, or there is something keenly attuned going on with your heart & soul. I believe the latter of course. I have not been able to move to part 4 completely yet. Processing. Not sure what I am going to find… you know?

        Do I say thank you? πŸ˜‰ [shrugs shoulders].

        How about; Keep On Being Encouraged. Just Keep on. [smile]

    • Thanks for all the encouraging comments, Mr. Hookey. One of these days, I’ll have to write an ongoing story with a reverse timeline, so when you read it backwards, you’ll be reading it forward. Lol

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