what the post title says really. a trippy, vivid dream i had a few nights ago. doodled down on back of an envelope at four that is now in the bin, at four in the morning.
i find myself dodging cracks in the pavements, jumping around the puddles of a noir street. it’s dusk, and today has been a hot day. i can smell the warm evening air as it fills me. my skin is still warm, but that nice warm as an evening breeze brushes me and holds me. red light shines through the cracks in the paving stones. i’m not superstitious, but it’s a bit too cool for heaven.
in the sky i see neon lights, buildings trying to make me buy their goods, and in the distance the faint sound of pop music. it rises to crescendo in my mind. clap my hands over my ears. scream. and the music is gone, hiding back in the recesses of the now darkening streets.
i close my eyes and i am home. and fall flat onto my bed. the sheets are warm, almost as if someone else but me has been there. i wish. there is a smell of burning, and vaguely a scent of cinammon. it’s sweet, and complete flavour that fills me. i close my eyes. stupid thing to do in a room with the embers of an incense stick. low music plays in the background. ambient.
and then i’m in a different room. it’s similar to mine in many ways; some of the same books, some of the same films on the bookshelves, and on the walls some of the same posters.roughly the same size as mine. it’s almost like the feeling when you come home after a long time. you suddenly see a room that you would have seen every day in a totally different light. things seem different, but it’s just the little things that are so innocuous you don’t bother to notice. i have a guitar in my hand, one i used to own years ago but sold away to pay to leave this sad, sorry country. i’m playing a song that i don’t know. the chords seem familiar, but i don’t recognise the melodies or the changes. there’s someone else there, watching me, but i can’t see them. they’re on the far side of the room, speaking to someone who is outside of the room. i can’t hear their voice, but i can hear the muffled sounds of the person at the other end. i think whoever it is is speaking to a girl.
i get up to leave. i have places to be. plans. i remember when i used to believe in plans, but now what’s the point? i see movement on the other side of the room. the mysterious person comes over. they speak. i can’t hear what they are saying, but i know what has been said. they kiss me. i’m suprised, that good kind of suprise which lifts you up, not the bad kind that makes you jump back. i doubt that would have gone down too well. their kisses are like heroin in my lips; i want more. i put my arms around them and kiss back.
and then i am back in my room, staring at the ceiling, as the smoke from my incense waxes and wanes in the summer breeze of my open window. i take a deep breathe, and close my eyes. the cold sweat that shines over my body is comforting in the warm night.