Awakeness

October 14, 2009
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I don’t believe in awakeness. When I sleep vibrant dreams of flying, dragons, and princes fill my head. They are unrealities that can be fulfilled inside the lovely world of dreams that stumble over my mushy brain as I snore. In awakeness there are no prince charmings’ that ride up on horses heroically carrying flowers and succulent candy vowing to lay down their lives for just my affection. Proposing a life void of baldness and beer bellies, stale morning breath and earth shaking belches, violent arguments and broken heart and tears. In awakeness, metallic scaled dragons do not saunter down Main Street, stopping at Starbucks to have a cup of joe. There are no castles whose vastness extends beyond the borders of the world. Their long cold stone walls gill with violins, the notes bouncing playful off one another. Heavy violet tapestries bordered with golden flowers casting shadows on the floors. The delightful smell of fried chicken floating through the air. In awakeness, no fancy balls occupy the realms of the schools where dancers move as light as feathers and glide like ballerinas on the ice.





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