Dreams are fragments of our imaginations. They are products of our desires, fears, and ambitions, hidden away into our subconscious and only manifesting during sleep, when we reach into the deep pockets of our memories. So it’s practically impossible to control our dreams, like how it’s impossible to control our desires. Dreams are children of the truth and show no shame in telling it.

So when I dreamt of my desires, I knew it was going to be painful. I knew it wasn’t going to end well, even more so that I couldn’t control what my dreams showed me. I’ve always known my mind is more powerful than the body that holds it.

I’ve been regularly mentally dozing off lately, finding no reason to think about anything whatsoever, mostly because there’s just too many things in my head. It’s true that writers scientifically have a higher probability of losing their minds, because there are days—like today—when there’s just too much. Just. Too. Much.

It amazes me that the human brain can handle the amount of neurological activity that we have, more so on days when the universe is in its natural state of douche. I’ve surely been through worse, but it isn’t during the worse when I can’t handle myself, because worse is definitely more easily surmountable than the everyday calamity of normalcy. It is during the humdrum of every day, the mundane, the ordinary, the routine, when things pile up slowly, slowly towards the ceiling, and when it reaches the top, it just erupts. Like Big Bang, the birth of a galaxy, the death of a star, and then the dust settles from the wreckage and then quiet.

You can hear your own thoughts in the silence. You can hear them screaming, louder, louder, each second muddies their clarity, each minute they become more and more obscure.

Today is that day, when I’ve had enough of normal, when the rocking of a boat or the clapping of thunder or the blasting of the bastion of ordinary all seem like peaceful moments, when my mind can settle from its own wreckage. And then quiet.

Fiction

What if you never began to like me and gave me attention. You would sit beside me and you would poke me like I never noticed you’ve arrived. I wouldn’t look unless you poked me a second time and you’d put your face close to mine.

What if you never asked for my name and I never found out about yours. You would borrow my phone and pretend to text your mother, only to steal my number so you could call me at night.

What if you never begun to call and dragged me along with your sleeplessness. You would tell me you lived alone and your parents died when you were six. You never really had a mother to text. We would talk til the sun rose and you would tell me good night still.

What if you never asked me to play soccer with you. You would teach me and I would suck at it. You would show how to kick the ball and I would trip when I tried. You would laugh that heavenly laugh and I would laugh, too, not because I fell, but because it made you happy. You would fall beside me and lie down on the cool grass and your sweat dripped and I didn’t mind. You would tell me to try until I became better at it.

I am a constellation swallowed by the universe. I belong there and I see beautiful things below me. I saw you and my heart was broken. You looked up and saw billions of other constellations. I looked down and I wished on the stars that crossed my path that you’d look at me, or look for me. You have day and night and I have forever, and there are now lesser days when you look up to look for anyone.

I am a constellation divided by stars. I saw you and I fell deep into the Earth. Now I am here and you, too. And I forgot where I belong because the universe was suddenly small. I looked up and wished on the stars that crossed the vast, dark sky that you’d look at me. We have day and night and I no longer have forever, and no one looks up anymore.

I am a constellation. And you are the universe. I saw you and I died.

You walked away. And I cannot go back to where I belong. Stars stopped crossing my paths and I stopped wishing because I know you’ll never look for me.

They took you, they took you back
to the lonely forest, where
it would be dark, very dark,
and it will be cold, colder
than music
and birds will sing you sad songs
and you will always be

alone.

So I’ll wait here for you, for you
to come back.

Listen to my voice
even if I am                                    far away.
I will wait for you, here
where the sun shines
and I will sing you a happy song, and
you will sing with me, and

we will walk together, together
towards the sunrise
where fear is an old, old memory
and we’ve forgotten it
and we’ve forgotten
behind us/the rocky road

and I will tell you,
happily,
truthfully,
we will be fine.