"Awake" by Bear

Goodnight.

I close my door as I turn on the ceiling fan.

The weight of the day leaves my body.

My mind becomes heavy.

I sit in my bed recounting the day, the week, life; I look out the glare-covered window to see the reflection my lamp light, standing quietly dim in the foreground of the blackness outside.

I sit, then lie, thinking, eyelids falling up and down.

Why does darkness fall, and the sun rise?

This is what I wonder as I digress from the day, getting into my bed.

Darkness…

I forget that my light is still on, as my body has already switched into its setting of fatigue and weariness.

I get up, flick the lever.

Nothing.

No change in light; none in the window.

I still see my reflection clear as day.

I try again, finding the same result.

Fervently I flick the light switch, similar in manner of an impatient person hitting a button at a crosswalk, wanting to get to the other side.

What's on the other side for them?

Another side.

I consider my dilemma as something abnormal but at the same time all too real to be imaginative.

I realize that my body feels energized, almost as if I had just woken up.

One more flick of the switch.

Light, still.

Looking for more signs, I come across my clock, the red lines reading a digital 1:38 AM.

Weird, I think.

It's late.

I look again out my window into the silhouettes of objects too dark to make out.

I consider going to sleep, but I am no longer tired.

My clock catches my eye again.

It reads something new this time.

4:29 AM.

I rub my eyes.

How could three hours pass when it felt like 30 seconds?

I blink.

Is this real?

I turn quickly to my mirror.

It swirls and turns, it's matter being pinched and pulled like viscous liquid.

I question my reality, yet I don't know what to feel.

I can't feel anything but a high.

My body is numb but electrified by adrenaline and curiosity.

Lucidity.

I go to open my door.

My hand wrap around the knob, but goes right through it.

This, of course, makes sense.

I walk right through my door, which in an awake state prevents intrusion.

I am not awake, but alive.

I jump down the stairs from top to bottom unharmed.

There are no such physical limitations where I find myself living, breathing.

My mind opens the front door of my house for itself.

Out I go into the night, running faster than a cheetah.

My body feels no pain, no stress.

I am untouchable.

I jump and tell myself that I can fly, and I fly.

My body is not bound to anything.

It's only my mind at work here in this dream.

I fly near the moon, the planets, places hidden from the busy mind and busy eyes of the busy world.

Anything I think of, unimaginable to man, comes to life.

It is painted before me.

I am the brush of the reality.

My mind is the artist.

I sculpt my surroundings.

It feels like days pass by in this experience.

I find myself, however, negligent of time restrictions.

Time is endless here.

But nothing good, or bad, lasts forever.

I come down, eventually.

From my air, my space.

The vividness of the mind is unseen unless you will yourself to go deeper than what is plainly seen.

It's all a dream.

What seems like days, even weeks, can be blips of time for some.

Lucidity, I find is, active.

It excites; it dares.

It's a practice that can be applied even to our own world.

One full of dreams and reality existing concomitantly.

I wake up, hoping to say goodnight again.

Because the world I wish to live in is in my mind.