I lie awake in the dusty couch I am laying. The soft green blanket wraps me as my toes tries to find cover. Nights like this are the ones I find exhausting. Thoughts engulf my mind, as I hopped into one memory at a time. Examining tangled laces, untying knots, and connecting dots on what I could have done differently. I wrap my brain around the “what-happened” and think about my latest profound solution on what I could have done best.
To be quite honest, there is not a specific moment I am actually pondering. My mind just feels like a pen on a blank paper, scribbling something until those lines begins to form like an object and then it hovers over it and I am taken to a memory. Once the memory burns out, the pen starts scribbling again on a blank sheet of paper.
Good and bad things are played like a movie. Looking at a specific memory from a different perspective. However, I cannot help but to let my imagination take over. It dances like a stranger as it tries to capture a silhouette of my dress, as I swing away with my memory. It tugs on the jewelry hanging below my neck, “notice me!”, it demanded.
“Imagine this!”, it whispered as I am dancing with my memory. I catch a glimpse of the new possibilities it could offer. Doors being flung wide open, dusty books burned, trees chopped for new pages, tempting to whisk me away into its cheap thrills and climable hills.
My memories are real and concrete. They are the ones I know happened giving me a sense of clarity. On the other hand, my imagination tries to bring cloudiness into those clear skies. It has this clever way of taking my heart into new dimensions, as my feet dips into their fluffy fantasies.
I shake them out as I focus on who and what is in front of me. I intently study reality and consciously examine him. The soft eyes of my memory, its smile oh those gaps… those memory gaps, its thumb caressing my backbone, and its gentle hold. My mind captured by this moment, as it soaks in the beautiful reality that is holding me as I dance with reality.
My mind: a combination of memory, reality, and fantasies. Only God knows which take up the most headspace..