Little Dreamer's Eyes
Darlin' dreamin in the night, shadows on the windows
5.07.2005
Morning
As I sleep in the sound moments before I'm toggled from my involuntary dreaming thoughts, I cannot feel consciously. Asleep and dreaming with no control over your thoughts and no control over when they will end or begin, I am free from the desire to change them. To edit them. To embelish them. They are pure and real.
As I begin to wake and my eyes are still closed there is always a moment that I don't want to open them. I want to fall back to sleep. Not from exhaustion. Not due to wanting to avoid the day. Purely to go back to that place where I can finish a thought uninterrupted. As I lay with my eyes closed I breathe deep in an effort to retreat back to the cocoon under the covers. In the warmth. In the dark.
Inevitably my eyes open. Immediately thoughts of the day fill my head of where to go, what to do, what was said and what wasn't, what should be and what isn't. Regrets and goals.
And I shut them.
Still thinking, trying to pretend I am not awake all the while I am and it's here. The thought of you. Again. I hear your voice. I hear the words you spoke to me when I listened so intently to every syllable as if they were sounds I had never heard before. As if what you were saying was to be cherished, savored. As if how you said it was unique to they way they had ever been said to me before. Simple words. Somehow they were magical coming from you.
And I open them.
I stare. I blink slowly. I curl into the blankets for comfort like a hug as if you are there. As if you have wrapped yourself around me to remind me why you're here. Eyes open I again breath deep, I hear your voice and I look down just enough to keep them open but not focus on anything and I see your face as you fall silent. You are smiling at me. You are looking into my eyes as if you just listened to what I said. As if we are still talking but yet it is silent. And you are not here.
It is just me.
I turn over to look where you used to be and I think of those who have been there since. Those I thought I loved. Those you never knew. Those who could not compare no matter how hard I tried to justify that you were gone and they had a right to be there. No one had the same rights as you. The same rights that filled me with the comfort of how it felt to see you in the morning. Looking at me from the other pillow that now lies empty.
There are days that I look at the pillow next to mine and remember the years I spent with someone who would never compare to you next to me. Someone who never made me anticipate opening my eyes in the early sun to see his face waiting for mine. Someone who was nothing like you. Who should have been. Who left me with hate. Who left me alone to wake on these days to open my eyes and remember a time before him. A time with you.
Sometimes I take the pillow and slide it under mine. I hold it. I curl up to it with the thoughts of the naive young girl I was when I thought you would always be nestled in it.
Your eyes closed.
Dreaming.
Next to me.
As I begin to wake and my eyes are still closed there is always a moment that I don't want to open them. I want to fall back to sleep. Not from exhaustion. Not due to wanting to avoid the day. Purely to go back to that place where I can finish a thought uninterrupted. As I lay with my eyes closed I breathe deep in an effort to retreat back to the cocoon under the covers. In the warmth. In the dark.
Inevitably my eyes open. Immediately thoughts of the day fill my head of where to go, what to do, what was said and what wasn't, what should be and what isn't. Regrets and goals.
And I shut them.
Still thinking, trying to pretend I am not awake all the while I am and it's here. The thought of you. Again. I hear your voice. I hear the words you spoke to me when I listened so intently to every syllable as if they were sounds I had never heard before. As if what you were saying was to be cherished, savored. As if how you said it was unique to they way they had ever been said to me before. Simple words. Somehow they were magical coming from you.
And I open them.
I stare. I blink slowly. I curl into the blankets for comfort like a hug as if you are there. As if you have wrapped yourself around me to remind me why you're here. Eyes open I again breath deep, I hear your voice and I look down just enough to keep them open but not focus on anything and I see your face as you fall silent. You are smiling at me. You are looking into my eyes as if you just listened to what I said. As if we are still talking but yet it is silent. And you are not here.
It is just me.
I turn over to look where you used to be and I think of those who have been there since. Those I thought I loved. Those you never knew. Those who could not compare no matter how hard I tried to justify that you were gone and they had a right to be there. No one had the same rights as you. The same rights that filled me with the comfort of how it felt to see you in the morning. Looking at me from the other pillow that now lies empty.
There are days that I look at the pillow next to mine and remember the years I spent with someone who would never compare to you next to me. Someone who never made me anticipate opening my eyes in the early sun to see his face waiting for mine. Someone who was nothing like you. Who should have been. Who left me with hate. Who left me alone to wake on these days to open my eyes and remember a time before him. A time with you.
Sometimes I take the pillow and slide it under mine. I hold it. I curl up to it with the thoughts of the naive young girl I was when I thought you would always be nestled in it.
Your eyes closed.
Dreaming.
Next to me.