Wake

I'm dreaming. The scenes are taking on form in my head as we speak, and i watch them behind closed lids; watching the patterns on my eyelids. Don't interupt because they are so extremely delicate...they will break the moment I dare touch them. It's so uncomfortably full in my dreams - like the crush of a crowd all around you, which you stand bemused in the center of. It doesn't matter if you're strangers here - you are all close enough to be lovers.

But the dream takes on an awkward tain here which comes with conciousness, and, fighting with feeble urges of sleep, we are reluctantly brought to the surface. The crush is gone; the people slowly fade away; the colour washes out of the horizon. All is quiet and cold, and i am left watching the patterns on my eyelids with the thought that woke me, and realise how alone it is in my head.

And i can't figure out if I'm still dreaming.