Subconscious turns to machinations. Perceptions just plausible enough for me to deem that not only have these developments manifested to bring aspiration and elation unbound to my tired soul, but that these events are substantial and substantive. I suppose this is why they are called dreams, though it seems more like my brain is teasing ever part of me, rubbing it in that it can reject reality for 20 minutes of REM sleep every morning. Worst yet, my mind has studied well and can postulate that it is far more manageable and devastating to make the tormenting part be when I am awake in bed. Falling dreams are no longer the penultimate of nightmares, dreams where the world opens up and lays at your feet a modest and most welcomed set of achievements marked happiness (paid for with dues) have usurped the mantle. You never hit the ground in dreams, at least experientially, when you wake up it is a different story. Thank God that someone put this mattress here, otherwise this might have hurt a trifle more.
If you see me today, there will be a smile worn on a tired face. Optimism and meditation to drive back the subtle waves on the rocky shores has changed the course of my life. Still looking for the lighthouse, but at least I didn’t nick anything. Soon I will go to sleep again. One-day in-between the daylight and the twilight, there shall be my face staring back at me mischievously. I am going to slap that sunnavabitch right across the cheek. For if my dreams turn to putting nightmares on the precipice of my new days, I will just steal the aspirations and sanguineness from deep within. It is far too sunny and warm outside for it to stay inside.
I know my mind has taken notice, someday you will too…
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