Reality
He opened his eyes and breathed in the cool, thinning air, slowly smiling to himself. He could sense the transition in the weather that was due today: mildly warm to chilly. He pulled the steel gray sheets away from him and dragged himself away from the pearl white fluffy pillows he was part of. The morning light seeping in through the glass illuminated the simple, open apartment and its blending grey tones. For a moment he stood there in his midnight black boxers holding a glass of water, feeling utterly blessed. He could not believe his ears as he heard absolutely nothing. His heart was ecstatic.
He placed his glass down on the counter and swiftly headed to the shower with one quick glance at him. The water was warm, soothing and gently caressed his face and neck as it rolled down to his toes. While a slow hum escaped his lips, his thoughts exploded.
He was walking down a white, meditative pavilion at the edge of a high cliff that overlooked the vast expanse of arctic blue sea and sky. The frost white tips of the waves soothed into the ivory beige sands. The distant sound of waves crashing and the squawks of the seagulls were the only focus. He had designed it in such a way that at one point in the pavilion there was a quiet room of mirrors and glass where you could sit and watch the endless form of the earth through the glass. If you decided to look away, the earth looked back at you through the mirrors and heard the words you spoke. The connection was seamless.
He stepped out of the room and noticed he was nowhere on the cliff, but on a pier by the lake. The lights around a distant boathouse winked as he passed by. He was right! The weather was quite chilly in the evening and he wrapped his jacket around him tighter. A nearby pub door opened and a group of friends walked out in all their gaiety and laughter while the country tunes blared out before the door closed behind them. He was sure that he heard a slight jingle of the bell. Was it Christmas? He double backed to see if he could notice one and momentarily froze as he noticed a stranger wrapped in a soot black coat approaching him. All he could stare at was the most beautiful smile and the kindest eyes he had ever seen. Somewhere deep down he knew this stranger. He had always known.
As he began to smile back, the snow started to melt as the temperatures rose and he realised he had strayed too far in his imagination and spent too much time in the hot shower. Ouch! The hot water burnt his skin.
Mornings at work were little drops of heaven. He loved his alabaster white work table, his charcoal grey stationery, the coal black mug that read ‘Coffee is thicker than blood’, his sleek laptop with the matt hairline silver finish and even the sage green bonsai that sat at the edge of the table. There was almost no colour and life was beautiful. Sliding back the horn rimmed glasses up his nose, he resumed his life’s mission of creating and transforming. It is known that change was inevitable but imagining, planning and expecting this inevitability was magical. The ironic dilemma of this magic was that the despair of reality in the assumed versions of future possibilities were euphoric. Perhaps this was the magic itself: believing and hoping.
He stood up to walk to the pantry to refill his mug, but clumsily tripped at the foot of the table. His hand let go of the mug which crashed on to the cement gray floor and shattered into a million broken dreams.
I woke up, almost out of breath and actively hyperventilating about a non existing mug wondering if I ever slept a wink last night. My head was buzzing from confusion and the hungover I picked up from the bar last night. I was a mess still in my shirt, pants on the floor, table piled with books, closet bursting with clothes thrown in. I was not a morning person!
I just wondered if all I did was constantly live in my many dreams to escape reality. Do you?
