Well, after an extended hiatus I have finally returned! Now that I'm firmly planted back home I should be able to get a good deal of writing done.
Thing 35: How do you feel about love these days?
That is an excellent question, my dear book. My first thought was to write a nice little love poem, but instead I'm going to write about one of my recent dream sagas. For those of you that don't know, I have a remarkably vivid and impressionable imagination. One of the benefits this affords me is the ability to give my dreams direction. As I fall asleep I think about how my dream will begin, and then it unfolds in a similar vein. This allows me to dream in series, so if I dream a story I particularly like, I'll keep it going the next time I sleep, and thus wonderful stories can unfold. I've had them go on for months, though this saga lasted only a few nights.
I should point out that this saga isn't completely relevant to the task at hand. At least, not in the conventional sense. I would urge you to not take it too literally, and to instead search for the feelings of the characters involved. It's also a rather long story, so please bear with me if I choose to complete it in multiple parts.
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It was a gentle sort of awakening.
The room sat in comfortable silence. I was dimly aware of the bright light bathing the room behind my eyelids, but I wished it would go away. The warmth of the soft sheets I had wrapped around me beckoned me to stay, and the soft bed beneath me welcomed me with a gentle embrace. I wanted to lie there forever; free of responsibility and hardship. I knew that this warmth would never abandon me. It would stay by my side for as long as I wished it.
But I knew all good things must come to an end, and greatness could not be achieved if one never got out of bed. It was a new day, after all, and the world was waiting.
With a sigh and every ounce of my willpower, I forced my lids to slowly part.
As my eyes adjusted and the blinding light became increasingly tolerable, a pristine white ceiling appeared before me. The morning light danced across its surface as wind jolted the foliage outside into motion. Under ordinary circumstances it would have been very relaxing.
The problem was, this was not my ceiling.
Confusion and panic fought for control of my recovering consciousness. In my grogginess all I could muster were a few blinks, hoping that each time I opened my eyes the strangeness would vanish and all would be as I expected. It was several minutes before I dared to look away; before I dared to see what other mysteries this morning had in store for me.
I swallowed as I turned my head to my right, careful to keep the rest of my body perfectly still. The large room was fairly normal, though far cleaner than I was used to. The ceiling flowed into equally pristine walls, adorned occassionally with paintings or windows that brought life to the space. A small night table and a simple dresser sat quietly upon the sky blue carpet, as if waiting for some sign of life. Both were bare, and painted the same bright white as the walls.
The simplicity of it was relaxing, to a certain extent. While the space was barren, it had an inviting feel. There was no pressure to it. The room was a blank canvas with no expectations or preconceived ideas to present to the viewer, and the air of serenity it presented helped to calm some of the panic welling in my chest.
Feeling slightly more relaxed, I let my gaze drift to the other side of the room. The panic immediately returned.
On the far side of the bed lay a woman.
Part 2: http://idlemindunhinged.blogspot.ca/2013/08/thing-35-how-do-you-feel-about-love_12.html
Part 3: http://idlemindunhinged.blogspot.ca/2013/08/thing-35-how-do-you-feel-about-love_13.html
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