The Forbidden Sweetness

Alone

A dream is a combination of flashing images that turns out to create a rather not real reality of events that we  experience with our absent bodies but almost fully sensible souls. It is a nature that takes from what our bodies were able to contain of our living souls in our daily opened eyes into a different existence in the absence of the many biological senses. The phenomenon of a dream tend to control us as we fight to want to believe whether it is purposed to communicate an awareness of an upcoming event ,or simply laying out the images of what has happened combined with what was supposed to happen to and around us in our solid and living world.

Who knows better to define what a dream is and what it is purposed? Maybe it is meant to keep our souls alive as our bodies take a moment of rest to the sorrows of the selfish and unfriendly world we live in. Or maybe, it is a special world itself that is created with connection to the actual world and that when we die will exist as a permanet and real world, of course with religion disregarded. Sometimes one sleeps to wake up without awareness of his own dreams. Does that mean he had not dreamt of anything? Or it means he dreamt of nothing special to recall, which is not concrete to be registered as the past time of this special world meant as after life.

The world has a powerful effect on influencing what we dream, because it has it's own way of transacting what ever feeling we sleep pumped with into what we are going to experience on our sleep, or in simple language what we are going to dream of. The pain we sleep with remains a painful energy we will be defined of in our dreams. I wanted to let go of her, I wanted to sleep and not cry when I woke up because of the reality that I had lost the one thing that motivated the eager to see another day. She was no more. She was gone and had left me behind in this lonely cold world. I could not be certain whether I dreamt of her because I always thought of her, or I thought of her because I always saw her in the world of my dreams. She had been a tattoo on my skin and then deep wounds that even if they were to heal would still leave huge scars as a constant reminder of it's existence. I had to choose whether I opened my eyes to see these wounds heel to be the massive scars or just close my eyes for good with the hope that I made my dreams the true reality of my existence.

Booze

I'll ne'er blame my partial fancy,
Naething could resist my Nancy:
But to see her was to love her;
Love but her, and love forever.
-1792 Robert Burns: Ae Fond Kiss

Robert wrote the poem for me. Robert was me and Martha was my Nancy. The thought of her sweet lips when she gave me her fond kisses compelled a stop to my sorrowful heart. Her voice when she said " l love you Josh" was one sweetest thing my mind could dare to recall. She had a beautiful face with a beautiful nose, a beautiful smile with the whitest teeth, a great sense of humour and cheerfulness. The most adorable thing about her was her capability to hold things together. Her confidence was solid and motivating to any shy person around her. She really was phenomenal and lovable at every corner of her innocent soul. I tossed Martha's book on the side, raised my right hand and scanned through the words on my bottle which they had become so blur.

"The world is nobody's friend. One minute you feel the warmth of someone's hands; the next you're suffocating in a lonely waste land. No hard feelings my friend, it's the reality of this world that slashes our hearts like we're in mortal combat." I said to the empty beer bottle that obligated me to struggle up from the couch that comfortably held my poor arse down, unlike the unfriendly world that instead let me down the saddest way. The couch was dirty cream from the original pure white but still as comfortable and favouring to my idleness.

I threw the bottle in a rubbish bin that had been long full until it decided to empty itself on the dusty floor. I was not ok, my body was too heavy now. I staggered for the kitchen, stamping on pieces of papers that was all over my living room. All the books from the book cabinet rested all over the floor like they belonged there. I had dropped them while searching for a book to read endeavour to distract my mind until I came across Martha's favourite book of poems. I always told myself I was going to find time to clean the whole place up but instead leaned to one bottle after another.