Day 37

At the end of this dream, a car will pull up. A familiar voice will call from the inside, asking if you need a lift to the party.

In the front passenger seat is your best friend, the one you trust with your life.

In the back is an old friend who would always invited adventure, next to her is a new friend whom you haven't seen in sometime. Behind them are two people you don't know, but you can already tell you look forward to learning about them on the way.

You can't really see the driver, but you get in anyway.

The car pulls away from the parking lot you were inexplicably waiting in, while searching for meaningless things. Like addresses and phone numbers.
You know right away that this car isn't going to the back yard party; the one complete with fire pit, open bar, loud music and all the people you knew from back home.

And even though this nondescript 4 door fish tails a bit on it's turn, you're not really worried.

You do have the courtesy to ask if you've left anyone behind. Someone answers "Nah, we got everyone we need."
You nod, because they're right.

This mystery chauffeur, despite being reckless on the turns, keeps a moderate pace as he straightaways to a nearby bridge - or was it a tunnel? Maybe it was a bridge with a tunnel or a tunnel on top of a bridge, you can't really tell. But as you approach you begin to see the morning light shine through and splash onto the dash board - also your bedroom wall.
It's then you realize that it is time to wake up, not because of any alarms or morning tasks, but because that's what your destination is: awake.
You feel a pang of guilt about missing that party. How often do you party with the past?
Should someone call to say your not gonna show? What does the driver think?

The driver thinks the same you're thinking. Because you're the driver. You're also the car and the merry band inside of the car, off on the next grand adventure.
And nobodies worried, because you've got everyone you need.
Wake up. Anything can happen.

Day 36

This minute's hand looked scared; so I took it in my own.
"It's okay" I whispered, "you don't have to be afraid."
"But what if I didn't do enough?" The passing minute asked, fear escaping each syllable.
"Then that's on me." I comforted the fragile measure of moments. "I could have started or finished a dozen things, over and over again. Your only job is to carry on. Mine is to do the best with the rest."
"Where will I go from here?" The minute asked. Their fears not quite abated.
"Oh!" I exclaimed. "You get to join every other minute that has passed from first till now. Where all time winds and weaves into the mosaic of all history. Some moments so mighty they shook the rest into place. Some so small, they hid from memory. Some came and went without anyone even noticing."
"And me." Asked this minute, their time almost an end, "how will I compare to all those many minutes?"
I summoned my most comforting smile, one I reserve for loved ones and lullabies, and answered simply, "Only time will tell. But I am glad I got to spend this minute with you."
With an appreciative sigh and a smile of their own, I let go the minute's hand.
And watched it pass by.

Day 35

Let's predict. Tonight's dream:

I'm flying. Without wings, in spite of every law of physics I've adhered to my entire life, I am flying!

... I won't likely be flying.

The best I can muster is some impressive jumping.

...

Fine.

I give a mighty leap, leaving the world behind. From up here I. See many houses and back yards. I land in the one with the conveniently located trampoline (there's always a conveniently located trampoline).

Why am I leaping so high? AMI being chased? ...no. I'm in hot pursuit. 

See I. Can't fly but this long haired bastard flies freely and mocks me whenever he can.

He floats in place, arms crossed, with his tongue sticking out.

He is going to eat dirt.

I know he will, because I will make him!

I take aim and push off once more. He narrowly dodged, but I've caught him off guard and he's on the run again. Now I'm running along rooftops in pursuit. Each step bringing me closer. He seems to have lost sight of me.

I take careful aim and this time, I'm not going to miss.

I leap off and wake up. It's still raining.

I still can't fly. I also can't leap tall buildings.

Ugh. What a drag.

Day 34

I wish I could play piano.
Not for concerts, nor recitals. Not even to be that good at it.
Just to have that thing that all those shitty shows cut back to when our misunderstood protagonist is brooding.
One of the other characters happen upon him and gleans some insight; a crack in the well kept facade...
But I'm not a misunderstood protagonist and I don't play piano and I'm not overly fond of people feeling like they have to spy on me to figure me out.
I'm me. And the me I am does not play piano.
Oh, I'll listen. I'll listen till my ears bleed.
The warm up - tickle those ivories gentlemen. One chord. Two chords. Three chords. Four. Build. Plateau. Fade... until ... notes.
One after another and another, some familiar re-visitations, but always moving. Movement keeps the pulse of the piece alive- Lifted up above the former place it once thought high. Higher still! Still the thrill will be always moving upward as if we are the rim to the drain and the sky is where we truly fall. Flying becomes falling, just the other way. And the rain in the clouds not yet formed is vibrating from the building crescendo in my ears-in my bones in my body, throughout me and I shake like the rings in the water. The still surface that was me ripples with tiny rings, because now I am the lake. I'm the pond. I dip my toe not into it but into myself, because there never was a pond. No pool. No page. No blank slate to be made into infinite possibilities only me.
Me and my infinite possibilities. Was this the fear. The hesitation. All this time, circling not a lump of clay, procrastinating the first hack- not a canvas but a mirror. And in it's reflective pure white surface- like liquid marble- pure white light of the happy open child that was always me. Looking right back at myself.
As I was. What I was, is what I still am?
...
And in a moment that swings between dream and wake. The lucid dream that I have acclimatized myself into, brings me to the conclusion that I am not so much living my best life as I am merely experiencing it. The greiver becomes a witness to grief. For that is how deep within the pond I've fallen. How far the little pebble of myself I've thrown can go.
I am not scared to drown. I cannot drown down here. I fear only that I shall find no need for breath.
In this warmth. This safety. This: where I came from after all. Floating in the essence of untapped potential and eternities of what could one day be.
It's safer here. Freer here. I am the pool, the pool is me and all my anxieties rooted to silly things like gravity, time, and direction fade. Form and thought are no longer contradictions, but rather brothers. One and the same.
Thought breeds form, and light is the true shadow of shape. Not the other way round. This cough, this sickness, is only a distraction. Only further evidence *cough* that I am getting closer *cough* *cough*
ever closer. Utill ...
...
Break the surface.
Take a breath.
Take another ...
Writing while ill can be - interesting to say the least.

Day 33

Possible backstory for the shadowy figure I keep seeing at the foot of my bed, which is actually just my catering uniform hanging up on a valet rack I purchased from ikea:
Sleep inspector.
He's just there to make sure I'm sleeping the correct way. On a bed. Lying horizontally instead of vertically (it's more common than you'd think.) My briefly stirring awake and seeing him, is a result of my going to sleep too late. And so the sleep inspector accidentally dozed off and is really embarrassed by the whole thing and would appreciate you not telling his supervisor.

Day 32

This holiday season, would it offend if I said: take care of each other.

Stay warm.

Be safe.

Bundle up.

Get some sunshine if you can.

Because every time I see someone offended about this war on Christmas thing I, want to ingest and upchuck all the candy and ceramic ornaments from my local shopping centre.

I can't dictate what people should value, nor determine what they hold to be important in their lives. But when the days are at their shortest, we've bid farewell to the warmth, and now settle in for the oncoming winter month; how can you choose to fixate on which holiday greeting your local billboard shows?

How can an inclusive greeting offend you?

Suicide rates skyrocket this time of year, homeless youths risk freezing and starving on the streets, traffic accidents are on the rise and everyone is sick in bed at some point from the air attacking their face!

But you have decided to champion the stupidest cause I've heard of since coke vs pepsi "it's not happy holidays, it's merry christmas"

Good news: It's both and it's neither. 

Because it's cold: Stay warm.

Because it's dark it: Be safe.

Because it's snowing: Bundle up.

Because the days are getting shorter: Get some sunshine.

Because of all of these things, and because we all must deal with them together: take care of yourselves. Take care of each other.

If any of these sentiments feel like a war on your Christmas, then I don't think you're celebrating Christmas properly.

Day 31

When you awaken from this dream - this is a dream by the way - you will try desperately to remember what I am about to tell you. 

Failing to recall the words will infuriate you.

You'll remember certain details, like me standing here with my angelic wings half unfurled behind me. The moments leading to our standing here before the Ferris wheel-bumper car hybrid. That's a Ferris wheel that you play bumper cars on while it raises you in a circular motion, instead of just sitting stationary.

Really this should have tipped you off to all this being a dream, but it is very endearing of you to look past it just to spend time with me.

Now: these final pivotal words I'm about to say that you'll forget: You will rush about for pad and pen, even though you've placed both on your bedside.

You'll be compelled to try and preserve as much of these final moments as you can. It is not unlike trying to catch a waterfall with just your hands. 

Don't be too saddened.

After all, this is your mind that conjured me. I'm still here, as are my words.

Even if you forget them. Even if you forget me.

I am never lost to you. Not really.

Take some small comfort in that, will you?

...

Now, the thing I must tell you.

It's simple, but important. And if you really think about it, all your problems could be solved by adhering to precisely this statement: