February 7, 2011 in F
I used to dream in color. I used to see the vividness of the lights, the stark contrast of the shapes and the people moving through my sub consciousness; the setting used to breathe with me. It was life exaggerated. It was life emphasized. It was an escape from the mundane. When I was dreaming, I could be anywhere, I could do anything. That’s not the case anymore. I’m plagued with listlessness now; a shell of my former dreams stands in my mind, mocking me. The scenes are monotone now, the people are faceless, the feeling is lacking.
I searched for an answer, spending hours poring over my routine, my life, but nothing changed. I’m the very same since the color faded. Working an average job, living an average life, being myself and nothing special, it was simple. It was me, it was who I am. I searched, spent sleepless nights wondering what happened and then I realized the factor, the problem at the core. She started sharing a bed with me.
She moved in; we share a bed; there is the difference. She’s so warm at night I can’t fall asleep, her body contaminates me like a plague. Fever enwraps my body; she insists on sleeping so close to me. I understand now. She’s far too warm to sleep with, and my dreams have responded. They can feel this intruder in my bed, in my life. They know that I’m uncomfortable with her warmth. They know I can’t cope with her in my bed, and they are spurring me to change.
They want her out; my dreams want her to leave. I can tell; I can hear them plotting, holding my color ransom. I don’t know why they want me to choose between the two of them, but they know; they know the color is precious to me. I need the color. I need the escape. I need to break away from the constraint. They know how much it means to me.
They know I will break up with her to have it back.
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