I didn’t remember when I first woke up, but I wanted to fall back into sleep.
Away from what I call reality, I think that’s why I rest.
Why I love art and music, and DDO to transport me away from the game of Life.
Writing in nature even, surrounded by the buzz of people, birds, squirrels, the clattering of skateboards, the eyes that ever so watch me when I shut mine.
All encased within my shell, the ‘Buds that resound melodies.
I’m listening to music that carries a beat but somehow I can’t stop but think about my sister.
Mama talks as usual on the ride to school. And she reminded me why I didn’t want to wake up in the first place.
I wanted to save her so badly. I dreamt that I was the one performing surgery. And despite the lack of memory over the surgical details, this was all that I could gather:
I thought of it like a plastic bag, then I realized a budding sprout was more appropriate. Snip the two pronged stems that support the fresh leaves, and then the supporting stem just above the root. I took it out myself, and while it was the only way, I also felt like I killed myself.
I was her, and not her, the surgeon but not the surgeon, in and out of bodily form.
This is what I dreamt. An ever so fleeting memory, or distant premonition, or imagination brought to life.
I told her today, after writing the above yesterday. She just hrmmed and listened, while I just described it as normally as I could. I mean, it wasn’t that serious. But my brain processes intense emotions into dreams, movies for me to enjoy. This one is the birth of grief, I believe.
I keep this blog sort of out of reach from my family. I’d feel awkward for them to read my innermost thoughts when strangers across the internet have access to them. Let it be. I don’t get how I tick sometimes, but those who may be the most closest to me don’t even know all of me. Just as I hide parts of who I am from others.
In a sense, I’ve never felt a true and deep connection with anyone except God who knows all of what I am. This distance, is not exempt from family relations. It’s rather – sad.
I was showed a new perspective today, I believe. Junie B. Jones. Remember it. Because finding out about my childhood’s love of reading – brought me to know – that somehow, get this, learning about the author’s death in 2013 opened my eyes on what was really important. Her life. Leave the rest behind, because whatever happens there is nothing worse than life robbed from my very comfortable world, the place of minimal fear and hurt that I grew up in, all made possible by her.
She is like my second mother, and father, so to speak. I was reminded of this fact today, and it deeply moved me. So I write, to not forget, because this chaotic mind of mine will lose these very raw emotions and thoughts in the turbulence of night.