Swing Shift GinJaElla's blog: "Random"

Today I woke from a dream in which an unknown man had taken me by the hand and was leading me deep within a dim & hushed copse of trees. When a stranger leads you within a forest, you expect fear. However, there was cricket song, and moss soft beneath my bare feet and warm sure feeling that I would follow wherever he may lead. A stray sunbeam warmed my cheek, and life beckoned me.

Waking was not at all what I had in mind. These days, I feel like I could sleep through the rest of eternity and never miss a thing that goes on without me. Each day seems to break with little more than the promise of survival to the next. Even in my bleak demeanor, at times, I realize that if you are not thriving, that if you are simply surviving, then in some ways you are dieing. Knowledge only brings joy when it pertains to art and stars. Knowing the dismaying gravity of my sanity does nothing to uplift me. It simply sinks me deeper, further. A soothing wash of grey that overcomes me as little blue pills lead me back to sleep that I crave intensely.

Soon, summer shall come. The heat, the droning of the fat, furry bees will awaken new senses within me and I will wander out into the world once again seeking new sensations, new and old friends. Perhaps meet a man who will lead me into the trees where my dream dies & life is able to claim me again. I'll have a pink nose, salt streaked limbs, sand between my toes as I listen to the timeless surf pound upon the shore and forget to remember why I ever forgot him. Another him, added to the murky sea of them, thrown to the ocean as I dip beneath a glittering wave, replacing one salty stream with another upon my face. Leaving all of the hims in the watery grave to wash away to sea. Never again to trouble me.

Oh, the hopes I lay at summers feet. The want I feed for this odd dream man to come save me, to lead me through the trees to the ocean whose tide will carry me to the other side of where such trivialities cease. To step upon the sand, releasing his hand and once again embrace the fact that in the end I am always left alone with me. The one who will always understand, the only one who will not cheat, deceive, hurt and leave. I'll plant a new forest, a new dream of trees. Name each leaf after one that has turned their back upon me. Wait for the cool breeze of fall to turn them in kind to a bright pile to rot upon the forest floor. Making a soft bed, these sheets of leaves.

Then, perhaps, I'll have some peace. Lay my head down upon that damp drift of leaves, done with it all. Finally. Scorched by the sun, washed by the sea, shelktered by the trees. I'll simply... Go back to sleep.