Monday, March 28, 2011

A Dream that goes nowhere

hazy, like the fade-out of an old film that takes immortality to end
wise infinities,these fuzzy memories
I am the spectator,viewing as drama unfolds glistening amidst the skeletal of my mind,like a Shakespeare's play

In this post the major players are :
(i). The sweet smiling city-girl with her zesty attitude
(ii) Yours truly, always a little confused, yet witty, none the less with nothing left to loose
(iii) Of less significance, two random stranger men, yet important to the main characters development

the stage is set for this dreams gathering...
city-girl relaxing upon a low lying mattress, with the two strange men,
in a suite glittering with dim illumination of scented candles...
She smiles significantly in mid conversations or relays some part of her play-book of past to them and yours truly spectates not uninvited, but still he feels he has intruded upon some seductive ploy

The tall dark man with smiling eyes, laughing, adding humor to the scene, cracking lame jokes and throwing stolen glances in the city-girls direction...
They feel a little uncomfortable for actions of their past - the devil deeds, between the time they have spent in dark and the emotions they exchanged, both feeling little mispositioned and lost in the anonymous man's presence

he sparkles radiant in his anxiety,
his radiance is contagious,so much that the other man joins in tossing glances at their darling female friend, the poor little victim of her own beauty's creation

I am sure that you are thinking where this drama is going
sadly it's really just an over decorated personal entry of sleep patterns & paranormal remnants laced with emotional components through neural connections
my dream-waves of presence

And as I re-spawn into this waking planet
a chaste of sorts flows down my roads, the dream as insignificant as it was
left me stuck on one thought,like sweet honey to it's own pot,
that of all the things which I could dream & remember even
the sweet girl of the city remains within the folds of my neural activity

In a short show summary of less grandiloquent content:

Baby, I dream of you as often as I breathe.