Every night, I close my eyes and get lost in the endless wonder of my mind.
I slip into a world, not unlike this one, but one very much its own. Each time is different; every world, unique. And the things I see there, such wonderous things, are difficult to explain.
I’ve visited strange lands and done things that I’d believed impossible. I’ve explored other planets, travelled into the past, or discovered structures that have been left by ancient civilizations. I’ve gone to space, starred in movies, done heroic deeds, and even found new types of dinosaurs. I’ve met so many people – such amazing people. I feel they are special to me – friends, family, and loved ones. Some exist in both worlds, while others live in just one. And all the while, each moment spent in these worlds, with these people, fills me with joy and laughter. I feel like a kid – young and worry-free.
Not all worlds are as happy, though. Not all dreams aim to please. I’ve fought in wars, been chased by things unseen, and forgotten to study or submit my homework more than once. I’d be lying if I said that there were nights where I wasn’t jolted awake from these experiences. How odd that my dreams can produce such happiness and such torment equally. How unfair it is to be haunted by something that can bring you such delight. I’d choose not to go back to these places if I had any control over it at all. But each time I fall asleep, the place I end up in is entirely random. There’s no knowing where I will be.
I wish I could say that’s the worst of it. But it’s not.
When I wake, there is a short moment of memory. I remember what happened. Who I was with.
For a moment.
And then it all starts to fade. Almost as if the dream slips just out of focus. I’m left with a feeling, but little of the actual events, conversations, or interactions. A few flashes of images, and then they are gone. I can’t remember the faces. I can’t remember the voices. I can’t remember…
I’m not worried for those that exist in both worlds. They visit my dreams but walk this world like me. They’re my companions, and I’ll see them again.
But for those that only exist in the dreams, a darker fate awaits. When I wake up, they are gone. They’re lost to some deep dark recess of my mind, and I’m left feeling empty. How could they not exist? They felt so real. They were here moments ago…
Did I kill them?
But then I wonder…
Do they exist any less if they were created in my mind? Are they truly lost? I write about them. I tell their stories. As long as they’re somewhere in my head, there’s always a chance they may return. Always a chance that they’ll live on.
I need more coffee…
Image Credit: kvacm