She woke up late as usual disregarding her alarm for at least an hour, conscious of the decision to ignore it, making it all an oxymoronic act to gain a couple intermittent precious moments of escape with no explanation needed. Her eyes barely part when the day slams up and hits her in the face. WHAM! All the conscientious fulfillments needed, all the responsibilities not done all coming in on a newly crested, newly broken wave of TODAY.
Today she woke up late, as usual, wave crashed alarm disarmed and feet grounded... it all begins again. The disorientation of the clashing dreamworld and waking world. The continual deciphering of reality and fantasy tires her consciously subconscious mind and makes every thing less real. Stuck ethereally in a Vermeer world, disconnected from the viewer and herself,so alone yet surrounded in connections. Making sense of the senseless illusory disillusionment brought on by no one but herself. Making amends every morning, her Psyche to her Mind, to say, "This is what's real," to say, "You woke up late again today," to say, "Your dreams are only as real as you want them to be. But, nonetheless, they will affect, predict, and consume your every breath, your every move, and all that you believe, conceive, hope, aspire to become, want, need, crave, desire, think and hold dear will somehow be incorporated in such a surreal way that you'll spend most of you waking, walking, days trying to understand, comprehend, bend, mend or apprehend one singular beam of the light of the truth from within,"... her own mind.
To take all of her 'relative' time to define her personal stance.
All contained in a singular glance.
Figuring out which side of the bed she awoke from is really tiring...
She woke up late today, as usual... and soon fell asleep again under the weight of her own brain.
04-03-01
LSW
This is a familiar scenario....
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