My chest hurts. I cough and a fiery sensation burns inside me.
A soft breeze really makes me feel good. It’s chilly but I’m warm now. I have a nice sweater on. It’s white and fitting. My blue jeans are snug and slightly faded. I’m wrapped up nicely.
There are so many people. Walking. Going and coming. They look lost. The mountains are gray. Generations of contrast layered in the distance.
Clouds hang not too far above. I can almost jump up and grab them. Drifting gently across the sky. They gang up on the sun, but its rays are too eager to shine through. The sun smiles across the terrain. Blue sky. Slightly tainted with striated shades of white.
My sweater is white. I have the hood over my head. I peer through my cave out into the world. It protects me. Little men dribble their soccer balls below on the quad. The grass is dark green with occasional spots of sandy brown. Apples grab tightly on the trees, ready to fall like their rotting friends. The hum of a helicopter. My mind. My cough. Damn this cough. I smiled hard today. I mean. It was hard for me to smile… but I did it anyway. It made me feel better.
Sleeping in…
This weekend I slept it. It felt good. Sleep always feels good. You’re in that dream world. Everything, all physical restraints that tug on the mind and body are somewhere far away. I dream and I close my eyes, absorbing into warm plush blankets and plump pillows. I melt and drift and escape from now. I play little movies in my head. I think about what the future will bring. I think about the people I will meet. The places I will visit. I visualize tomorrow’s events hour by hour, planning out in preparation. Sometimes I think about traveling to foreign countries… I like to see the rolling hills in Ireland, the soft grass against the ocean. I like free falling and flying. Sometimes I fall into a deep sleep for a moment and my stomach ascends into my throat with an exhilaration and adrenaline that leads me to jump up and let out a surprised gasp. Only I realize I’m not falling or flying and I’m safe in bed. Hm.
Last night I couldn’t sleep. It’s funny. You have good days… bad days… good weeks… bad weeks… good months… bad months… good years… bad years.
I think it’s funny. You’re life is as good as you make it. Sometimes I forge the true significance of that statement. Some days I feel like I fight against gravity and every urge to stay awake, and other days I make a powerful decision that life is amazing… or it will be… and i live the day like its so. I don’t know why I let myself live any other way. I forget. I get preoccupied with trivial things. Circumstantial things. I forget the amazing grace of God and the beauty of creation.
I’m sitting on a wooden bench. Weathered and splitting. It overlooks a tri-state view that captures the essence of freedom. To see this you need to just look at the rays cascading through the clouds, speckling the mountains and the trees, and watch the birds gracefully skim the tops of the ridge lines.
William Dare 