You called my name; half awake. An amniotic sac of memories. A Fragment from my recurring dream spilled over into waking reality. I no longer do much, only wait in an empty hallway for your Ghost to show up. A white light in an empty room, reflecting an empty shadow of a torn note with a name written on it. I had been asking your name for years and years, the daylight fades, the memories pass, the dreams die and are born again. You come back like the ember of a fire, rekindled longing.
I had a few dreams last night, they spilled over into my waking reality. I wrote them down repeatedly for days in the hopes of lucidly finding you. The process made me question my spiritual self. Watching visions of my arms swirl and float above my physical self. Consciousness flowing in a breeze, hitting the ceiling, light patterns, and the whisper of a Ghost.
Your whisper reverberates for a second and wilts away into the carpet of my upstairs bedroom. A damp imprint is left on the carpet, a stain of your washed away love. I see you walking forlornly on a beach, and it is cloudy, tears and rain streaming down your face. How can I not write anything cliché about you? It appears cliché but your form is formless and that is all I know about you.
Paralysis in an empty hallway, the screen appears before my face, a façade telling me of a simulated reality. Which is simulated and which is the waking moment? A shadow appears in my doorway, and I cannot move and am frozen in place screaming in a moment caught between the present and the future.
I descend further down, into your dream residue. We are all someone’s dream, floating in the ether of nothingness and physical experience. A hallway with black and white colored carpets and walls. A room with a door that has not been opened in a long time. I go in and find you sitting on a bed.
We talk to each other for a few moments in time.
‘Where have you been? I had been looking for you all the while.’
‘I’m always here, you just haven’t looked for me. Everywhere you go I am there; you just need to look for me.’
‘I knew it was you.’
The feeling of your spit in my mouth frosts over the glass of time. We watch the pelting rainfall outside of a hallway suspended in motionless flux.
My eyes adjust to the light of your withered love.
I fall away into a visage, your shape wilts away into the nothingness sands of existence.
Light Patterns, Dream Fragments.