Faint Memories Part 1

Faint memories of dreams ran through my mind, then disappeared just as quickly, leaving me without the feelings I have long sought elsewhere. The racket faded passed my window, and peaked my curiosity as to whether I was dreaming or not, knowing the too familiar sound, or whether I wanted to be or not, the latter question having a more definitive answer. An anger was kindled within me, then died as quickly as my consciousness, and like the other, it would be revived again.

I had awoken several hours earlier, rather disappointed with my body's unwillingness to let me rest, and even more disappointed that I would be unable to properly discipline it. I had memories of something I had not long forgotten, feelings I had tucked away, for someone I could not and now cannot touch. It is not because of a lack of ability. It is simply because of a lack of convenience. Suprisingly, the idea that this was not going to be a good morning did not cross my mind. It wasn't Sunday. But I was rather glad to have remembered the perfect love she and I shared and still share, the memory of her smile still impressed on my soul, only making me smile on the recollection of it. I didn't actually smile. The dream was over after all.

I rolled uncomfortably to my side, and, in a single movement, my head seemed to find some comfort in my hands, and my fingers found a chore, though a shorter one than usual, in preparing my eyes for the harsh sunlight, though the light itself was obscured at the moment. Then it happened. I was suprised, but it was not unlike the suprise one feels after having been shot by one's best friend after a night of heavy drinking. My hands now discovered that it had the terrible duty of assessing the damage someone had dealt on my unfortunate shoulders.

I was not particularly hungry, but I went to get something to eat anyway. Something I'd forgotten always reminded me to do so at the appropriate time, not that I was aware of it given a measure. My body tried hard to convince me that I had not descended from homo erectus and succeeded several times as I stumbled through the hallway, shoulder hitting this, knee hitting that. And then, that curiosity that visits me at about this time every morning took a turn at the mirror, and queried whether or not it was the same face it had stared at the previous morning. It was, and the familiar feeling of shock and disappointment came, and went, again.

[ Top | Articles | Home ]