This dream was better than waking. In it, his father took him fishing at Lake Oconee. They spent hours in their boat, rods in hand as they stirred the water in search of large-mouth bass. In the dream, his mother waited on shore, watching them with a fond smile as she prepared to cook dinner.
This dream was better than waking. For, in waking he realized that his father was still dead. He had been dead for six month, ever since an IED took his arm, half a lung, and his life. Now, the young man drifted through the days...
This dream was better than waking. I was slim. Looked beautiful in the ivory vintage silk dress Mama had worn herself. Stepping out of a two horse carriage festooned in thornless white roses. Flash of cameras. Walking down the aisle holding Papa's arm, relatives crammed in the church, sitting and standing, heads turned to watch the procession towards the altar.
I couldn't see the bridegroom's face for some reason, something often goes amiss in dreams, but I knew he must have been hadsome.
I woke at the sound of footsteps down the hall, heavy, slow, echoes reverbrating into my consciousness....
The dream was better than waking. I floated, all the past troubles seeming to dissipate before my very eyes. Luke was nowhere to be seen, which was a relief, because in days past he had haunted my dreams mercilessly. I noticed that there was no one else in my dream, just a thick, white mist. Like a feather bed, i laid in the unusally substantial mist, in a mystical dreamlike state. I saw a shape, a dark figure coming through the fog. It was Nyxie, my facility director. Her red hair floated like me, but she kept to the ground....
The dream was better than waking. I floated, all the past troubles seeming to dissipate before my very eyes. Luke was nowhere to be seen, which was a relief, because in days past he had haunted my dreams mercilessly. I noticed that there was no one else in my dream, just a thick, white mist. Like a feather bed, i laid in the unusally substantial mist, in a mystical dreamlike state. I saw a shape, a dark figure coming through the fog. It was Nyxie, my facility director. Her red hair floated like me, but she kept to the ground....
This dream was better than waking.
In this dream, she lay next to him, fingers entwined talking about school, family, tv shows, the universe - they were creating inside jokes, they were getting to know each other and they were having fun.
In reality, she was hours away from him.
In this dream, he smiled at her and reached for her hand.
In reality, he had avoided making physical contact, eye contact, even making contact via phone.
In this dream, they fell into each other and fit perfectly.
In reality, the jigsaw pieces felt scattered and she had no idea...
She moved through my dreams in the silver slippers of moonlight. I shivered. It seemed as though something had touched me. I could hear the early morning mist slip off the slumbering streets...my bones shuddered and I longed in those lucid moments for warmth.
Did you breath? I felt a soft air cross my cheeks as I struggled against the frostiness cast by being in the limbo between sleeping and waking. Touch me! Touch me! make me come alive again, don't let me drift into cold darkness.
Sunlight drove hard through the window and fell on my cheek...is it your...
"This dream - it was better than waking."
"That's incredibly flawed. Inherantly flawed. You can't control the dream - for all you know, in the next few moments, you could've... You could've turned up to someone's wedding. Someone you hated. Or worse, someone you loved."
"If that's the kind of dreams you have, I'm not surprised you can't understand how a dream could be better than waking." I made a face. "That's really the best you can come up with? Oooh, a dream wedding." My nose wrinkled. "Is that a pun?"
"A very strained one." She replied, going to make...
This dream was better than waking. Like many others-- She was there. She looked different in every dream, talked different, had a different name; but she was the same person every time. She was an aspect of me, who I wish I could be, who I knew I never could be.
Except in the dream. While I was still the awkward, shy man I always was, in my dream I could share dinner with a woman who had all the qualities I wanted. She could talk without feeling nervous. She was ambitious, no regrets of /not/ doing something. And, of...
This dream was better than waking.
The fact that I *knew* I was dreaming kinda freaked me out. Inception was just a movie right? Right? Leo? Talk to me man.
Leo ignored me. So did the really tall blonde in a small bikini, slowly, slowly rubbing suntan lotion on her legs.
Yup. Definitely a dream. Even the ignoring was standard issue me dream.
I looked around me. I was on a beach, somewhere, Leo beside me sketching the girl with the lotion. Up the beach, toward the headland, three young men were playing hacky-sack. I looked a bit closer. Hacky-sack...
You slide a cool hand across my chest, toying with the thick hair before following it downward.
"Treasure trail..." you whisper, your breath warm and moist against my ear, "... that's what we called it."
You move your hand downward, teasing, toying with me, making me wait for it. Your manner tells me that I have to say something, say the magic word before you complete your motion. You wait for me to speak, and I grow frantic with the nearness to your goal.
I guess, desperate in my hope that I'm saying the right thing. "What... what do you...