In Dreams

2007-08-20, 10:03 p.m.

I've been dreaming of my future lately. Where I will live in particular. I want a pink house, with high ceilings and windows so the sun will stream through, light beams perfect for napping in. I want stained glass skylights to paint everything magical colors. My house will be a shrine to light, it will celebrate it like a religion. There will be no clocks, only a sundial. What a silly concept, time. So unnecessary. The walls will be brick, whitewashed and reflective, covered with my framed photos and paintings in every color imaginable. The floors will be bare wood, uneven and imperfect, good for dancing on with bare feet. I will fill the rooms with plants, tall creeping vines, flowering trees, large palms, and flowers everywhere. It will be my jungle. The furniture will be sparse, nothing but a bed and some couches... perhaps a table, though I will not eat at it. I eat only on the floor, on the balcony, or nestled in a chair. The bathtub will be in the center of the room, and when one washes it will steam everything up, leaving the leaves dripping, and a wall of condensation on the windows. A boy will live with me, he will play me guitar, laying on the bare floorboards in the summer moonlight. We will watch the city from our balcony at night, listening to classical music and post rock while we sip wine. We will have a hookah, pulled out for those rare occasions when we decide to invite others into our home. Naturally we will live in a city, a place where life is fast and things happen. There will never be a moment of boredom, with concerts to be attended, drugs to be experimented with, people to entrance with our ability to meld together and shut all else out. We will be artists of course, world renowned for our uncanny ability to document the city and it's inhabitants. He will leave for his photojournalism sometimes, leaving me to hide in my bed, watching the creeping shadows that cover the walls.

When I am alone I will call up my old friends, and we'll reminisce about silly things like the time we were handcuffed together in the back of a cop car, that highschool party where we all kissed the same drunk boy, or the night we all piled in one of our parent's cars to go to Rocky Horror and ended up in a wreck. I will come away from it fearless, and turn on all the lights of the house, turn on some music far too loud and paint the walls with my feelings. I've always wanted to have walls covered in art.


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