Snow and smiles

On the days I dream so real as though I am walking, breathing in them I note how relaxed I am. Sometimes a bit concerning that a dream so vivid can make you so calm when your heart is pounding hard against your chest.

Even more so the reality of some of the scenes makes you laugh as you recall them. That the possibility is better being struck by lightning than the seconds rolled into moments given. Ha. These dreams are tokens.

Yet to recall them at all is special. The idea of placing pieces of your thoughts and your memory inside one colorful night. Truly an interesting event to say the least.

I woke this morning thinking I was covered in snow in a period dress. Though the moment actually was closer to the theory that I was in costume verses in actual stages of livelihood. To wake up still chilled by the snow and looking down at my legs to realize I was still abed. Interesting to say so much.

Not sure why snow seems to be where I meet these people again. But it is so clear that there is complete calm in the situation. That life is being kind in the aspect of a lesson made and processed. That my new take on life won't interfere with the lessons. 

Today I wanted to just let go of all the dreamy hopes and curl back into my ball. Sleep the day away because the soothing rain is calming me. Yet parts of me doesn't want to see any imagery in my mind. I don't want to look inside of my mind and discover what is really placed here. So I am awake drinking coffee that has no taste and writing.

Yet the eyes droop and I stare out into space for long periods. Stinging my lungs with raspy gasps as I jerk my eyes open again. 

So much of not wanting to see snow and forehead kisses nor that of holding hands and roughness. Nothing. Just voided black space with even breathing. A simple request. 

Yet even in my moments of long pause I find the memories creeping up. The index card flashes. The images in a rapid succession, like a collage they spray across the expansion of my closed eye lids. Like that of a projector on the wall. Sporadic.

I don't want to have memories of you. I don't want to settle in a phase of meditation and still have a laughing image cross my mind. Simple views of cutting boards. Nothing. Not even a stare of green olives. Just want no more unconscious tears. 

Perhaps the reason why the dreams are coming my way. I get that I must remember portions of you. Why? I have no idea and yet I listen. The memory is important. The snow falling around us and the costumed environment, even more. Whatever the understanding is, it vibrates thoroughly. 

Not even a nod takes care of the jolt. Even the times we pass and say nothing. The evening comes and tiredness rolls around. Words are found. Just whispered. Time carries them. Truth holds them. Placing them where it is necessary to be actions more than just letters.

Indeed the depth is understood. As I stand with snow falling and a huge smile on my face. The beauty of snow. I will understand it all, then.

Now I sigh as the confusion of my brain and the memory of this dream settle. I can finally find other words to tackle. The expressions are so vivid. The eyes. Even the stance is protective yet aggressive. Interesting of how the motions are played. 

Certainty is supreme and laughter in sky blues finds bliss. I can't ask you to understand. Let alone feel the truth. Whatever connected is still rolling deep. That I get. Yet I don't ask you to "get it". That is complex. Confusing and too dramatic for your mind. 

So I close this picture from my mind. Tucked away in a soft pillow. Returned to the delicate box. Played on repeat another day down the road. 

I smile.