Residue

Residue

7 AM – a sublime sadness stirs you from your slumber, and in those fleeting, fogged out, moments, you’re barely able to maintain your grip on the ghost of a dream now wanting. 
it’s the last dream on your mind.
the one dream that always stays on your mind.

this dream is your gold standard, your grasp at a perfect ideal, at a model worthy of transcribing. it’s your very definition of bliss…

until you wake, and that dream begins to turn. it wraps around you and it rots. it seeps into you, into your blood, and it poisons your heart.

the specifics of the dream fade, and emotions flood in to make up for the loss, leaving a residue to stain your day with the unshakable weight of naught.

you forget that the dream happened, and as the day trudges on, everything seen and felt remains tinted by its grayed out lens.     

the luster that comes from life spent wisely is lost – it might as well be forgotten. only a dull existence remains, one sparked into creation by a dream that can no longer be recalled.

work seems meaningless, visits with family and friends, pointless. because within the wells of your dreaming, upon the moment of your waking, a bad seed was planted.

your entire day plays out like this, and even though you cannot track the coordinates of the cause, you’re still able to take solace in some familiarity, however brutal it may be.  
you've been down this road before.
and you will be down it again.
because you dare to dream the fool’s dream –
the one of obtaining perfections only found
in dreams that sour upon waking.

M. L. Michael
9/7/13

---

About…