Wanderlust

My bag is packed. Selected and designed to get me to my journey's end.  I open the door. The first step is always the hardest, the leaving part. But yet not the hardest. The excitement for adventure in me makes it easy. I step onto the road to test my true endurance.

The road is long. I've known it for some time. Prepared in every way possible. But what awaits me, is beyond my comprehension. I've only heard stories and fairy tales of the place at the end of this road. I must get there. The desire in my heart and the strength in my soul begs me to reach out for it. Despite the promised dangers that lay in wait and the strain on my mortal body, I travel.

Thirsting and starving. Stumbling, weary, and travel worn. I stop. Only for a time. I am alone on the road. I find a stream heading the same direction I am. The cool water refreshes me and I eat my bread to strengthen me. The night is coming.

Much must be done to prepare myself for the long night. Shelter is thrown up and a fire lights a small circumference around me. I sleep for a time.

Noises coming from the dark. I've been taught to stay in the light. The creatures of the night don't bother with fire and its company. But sleep is hard to come by with the fear and anticipation of what lay beyond my eyes' seeing. The fear gathers inside me and I doubt the sun's rising. But just the slightest glimmer on the eastern horizon sparks hope in my heart.

The road stumbles me. My small torch only shows me so far ahead. Many times I climb huge obstacles and other times I walk sluggish through dense forest. But always my mind remembers where I'm going. And who will be there waiting.

I've reached the mountain. My destination lies beyond. With determination I reach up and take hold. My load weighs me down at times but it is essential for me to keep it close. Climbing requires all my strength and fortitude. Sometimes I run out. But Someone's hands push me forward or lift me up when I get caught.

Right now I must struggle on. The hardest part of my journey is stretched up before me. I have come a long way. But more is required if I am to reach this place. My heart yearns for it. Although my body is weak, strength will come.

Nothing can stop me but myself.

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Monsters, beasts and the like

I listen carefully as I wait for them. They always come when it's the darkest. When I can't see them, only then will they come. The thud of my heart drowns out their coming, but I can feel them all around me. I can feel their empty souls. Ugly and lacking in light.

I try to elude them but the darkness is theirs. I kick and punch with all my might but nothing I do seems to faze them. My strength is being spread too thin. Too many.

Slowly they infiltrate the small space inside me. I scream but no sound comes out. The more space they take up...the harder it is to push them back out. They are cold and spiky. Prickly. My body crunches into a tiny ball, trying to squeeze them out. But somehow they've found more space to occupy. They reach into the parts of me that are weak and try to break anything they can.

Weakness. I can feel it piling up. How easily they found it all. How abundant it has become. There is no hope within me. It must come from outside. Anything.

Eternity drags by as the skirmish continues. Repetitive fears and worries flung around the room. Good always prevails...my time is coming...

Light. The Sun.

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On the clock

Darkness surrounds me. A soft darkness against the back of my eyelids. My body slowly relaxes against the welcoming couch cushions. Breathing slows down to a quiet rhythm and my heart thuds a low bass. The gears of my mind wind down and settle into place.

tick.

NO!! Please. I beg you! Do NOT Listen.

tick. tick.

Listen to the white noise of the fan blowing cool air across the room. Its purr will calm the senses. Ahhh.. much better. Listlessness takes over once again. My mind does a replay of the events and worries of the day, slowly stumbling along.

tick. TICK. tick. TICK. tick. TICK.

Furrealz?! Ugh. Sounds like this clock has a hitch in its getup. Perhaps a limp? Whatever. It doesn't matter, either way it was seriously delaying my time of rest and recuperation (which considering how much I really don't get anyways you'd think I'd be used to it by now...), something most precious to me.

TICK. tick. TICK. tick. TICK. tick....

Blast my light sleeping habits. Other more fortunate people would find it almost soothing to have the telltale rhythm of the clock rocking them to sleep. Oh no. Not me! That would be too wonderful. My body enjoys torturing itself at night. Even as a wee infant my mother told me it was my habit to wake when she so much as took a step into the room. I've had quite the amount of practice it would seem in a fifth of a century.

tick. TICK. tick. TICK. tick. TICK. tick. TICK. TICK. TICK. TICK.

ARGH!!! I will crush the stupid wall decoration! I swear that it will be done.

I tear down the time keeper and pull out its heart. The clock becomes quiet and useless without its power source. Blessed silence. Hallelujah!

Goodbye loud world of clocks and ticking. I'm headed to a world of quiet dreams.

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Dweam wiffin a dweam

DREAM ONE

Snow is stacked around the road in plowed piles. Pine trees make a high skyline and through their hallways a dark and spacious warehouse opens. To the side of the mountain road a mining pit. Tiny figures pick at the rocks and small explosions spatter the mine. Formless people mill around the constricted open area; disappearing and reappearing with little purpose other than to exist in my mind.

From the deep blurry forest a Tyrannosaurus Rex bursts into the scene. Frantic movements of the figures becomes a haze in my peripherals. My limbs feel sluggish and my vision can*t seem to clear as I search for a hiding space from the huge carnivorous creature. A dugout; only tall enough for me and just as wide as a person across the shoulders; appears in the ground at the top of the hill with a few hiders in it already. I drop down inside and wait for the all*s clear.

A military march is heard in the distance. Soundless voices urge my escape. Only I can get away fast enough to come and rescue them from the overrule of the foreign military. I run up the hill and down through the warehouse. My computer and its cord are in my hands. It is essential that I keep it.

The officers of the brigade enter the warehouse moments after I run down the stairs. My fingers lose their grip on the computer. I look towards the opening to the upper floor and the leader looks at me with calculating eyes. He points at me and I weave and jump through the bottom floor to safety.

I am in the city now. I make my way into the Taggart Student Center. I find an elderly man who puts his arm around my shoulder; shielding me from the view of the occupant soldiers. His wife comes to my other side and guards me there. A soldier comes and tries to see my face. I keep it turned away and make my escape outside. I somehow find myself on babysitting duty. They only get to have 10 minutes to play outside.

At the close of their playtime; barrels of various colors float down from the sky. They melt into the ground where the storehouse resides. We wait in line; first come; first served. I come second after the first unlucky man. I turn to the boy behind me and we walk away trying to keep our spirits up. The front man attacks me and thrusts me up to the wall by my shoulders.

I push him away several times but each successive attack he gets stronger. My fists pummel his face but seem to have lost their substance. I feel completely helpless. I don*t have the strength I can feel in my anger. Something is wrong. My limbs don*t have strength at all. With one final attempt at escape from the evil man; I punch his face with everything left inside me and the jolt wakes me.

DREAM TWO

I look around. I*m in my room. Thank heavens. It was a dream. Odd. I*m not in my bed. I crawl out from under the covers and look to see that I am in fact at the foot of my roommate*s bed; scrunched into a ball and she is still asleep. I slip out onto the floor. I swear I don*t sleep walk. Perhaps tonight had disproved that. I stand up and look around. There isn*t much light seeping in through the blinds. It must still be night time.

Well I don*t feel too sleepy. A television sits on a dresser that has somehow replaced the head of my bed in the corner. I toggle the switches and look for a channel to watch. A female news reporter; in front of a red background; rambles on indistinguishably about something boring but I can*t seem to get away from this channel. My other roommates are still asleep so I try to find the volume button. It can*t be found. The television gets louder and louder. I panic because I don*t want to wake them all up. The noise eventually wakes me.

DREAM THREE

I*m in my old apartment in Old Farm. I*m laying on the ground between Sally and Charlie; my feet propped up on Sally*s armrest. The lights downstairs are all off and the hallway light upstairs shines down the stairs and through the bars of the stair railing. A movie is on and shadows of people I know sit on the couches attentive to its story. I try to sit up and my body won*t move. I*m so tired. I can*t seem to keep my eyes open. I can*t make anything move. My eyelids close but then flutter open as I come awake.

DREAM FOUR

I*m in my bed. My clock blinks early morning. My eyelids are heavy and my mind is grateful for the promised rest until my alarm is actually set to go off. I close my eyes and go back to sleep to find blurry dreams and sluggish fantasies.

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Day of conundrums

First conundrum: To wake or not to wake?

Out in the world of the awake is a haggard life full of dreary colors and drawn faces. No warmth resides in earth*s first morning breath. The happiness of the sun*s rising has not yet come to pass. The remaining winter bird*s twittering and lilting songs are absent. No sane creature stirs from its place of slumber. A sombre existence in a cognizant world.

Second conundrum: To class or not to class?

A professor*s lecture; full of pomp and vague humor; falls upon many closed ears. Numerous thoughts revolve around a world of dreams and happy hauntings sporadically tapping into instruction. A scarce few nod to the beat of exhaustion and button their eyes secure to the drone of the professor*s lulling oration; which arrests sycophantic attention alone. The chosen subject parades no excitement or fascination to claim justification for the sinful earliness of the rendition. The sandbag man is a far more virtuous and heeded competitor in this dark hour. 

 

Third conundrum: to eat or not to eat?

Being that the first and second conundra coupled; cause for quarterhour shuteyes and hurried traveling; eliminating tardiness served as a consequence for cuffing the snooze button. Time warrants especial division. Gluttony doesn*t comprehend the college cuisine and time deficiency increases eradication. Barren cupboards and wasted spaces common corridors in scholarly quonsets.

Fourth conundrum: to cut or not to cut?

Safe paths on busy highways in blocks and rows. Cut pathways snake through glades and manmade forests frothed with cultivated ices. Danger*s path the quicker road whilst safety*s course runs straight and eternal. Time saved prospects point out slippery ways.

Fifth conundrum: to work or not to work?

Well earned bills and hard spent hours; counterparts work well with instruction. Double-crossing juvenile*s wander lazy patterns within dusted academies while worn out managers sings praising. Beastly creatures run rampant through lowered appendages chasing star sounds. Late leaving monsters grate on hearing aids and mentors. Shaved trees whir round signatures and metal spikes in endless rhythms. Creeping bothersomes watch through clear membranes. Racing to time*s clock to beat the lagging constitution. 

Sixth conundrum: to study or not to study?

Missed concepts from early mornings literally book-ridden. Reconciling weary eyelids and drooping posture steps to ambrosia. Waltzing figures catching butterflies and bowling bubbles in neighboring ballrooms cast shadows on rainbow walls. Rambling attention befits festivities and laughter. Social calls inhibits motivation*s flow. 

Seventh conundrum: to sleep or not to sleep?

Days lain awake; end results to rest. Began with sleep*s deprivement now swift to late activities at it*s expense. Life*s spent worries laid to rest at bed*s edge.

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The Worst

Grudgingly, I come to full consciousness. I readjust my position, trying to alleviate the discomfort my body is feeling. The new position offers no solace. My bare feet touch the coolness of the sheets where warmth has not been established yet. Warmth. My favorite part of being in bed during this cold season. Sigh. I must arise and go forth. Nature's call is hard to ignore when it's this insistent.

I roll out from under my covers, hoping that the warmth will be preserved in the miniscule amount of time I will allow myself to be absent. I toe my way to the bathroom and hold my arms out in front of my body, feeling the air for the existence of any object ready to jump out at me from the darkness. My fingers find the light switch and flip it up. The blinding light forces my weary eyelids to squeeze shut. I squint through one tiny slit to find my way to the porcelain chair.

My body closes the gap towards the seat and suddenly my mind screams at me "COLD SEAT!!!" My downward momentum is immediately suspended. What to do? I cannot continue to hold the gallons keeping residence in my bladder and sleep the rest of the night in peace. But how can I put my little behind on the freezing surface of the seat and not get hypothermia instantly? This was a major dilemma that I shouldn't have to mull through at this time of sleepiness.

The battle rages through my brain, seeming to take years of my life away but in all reality lasting mere micro-seconds. Discomfort was a factor in each option. One would last longer and seemed more endurable at the moment. The other was quite fleeting, as my body would warm the seat in a matter of moments but what miserable moments they were going to be. Ah!

Of all times of the year to wake in the middle of the night with this ridiculous need to make my way to the lavatory. The coldest night in all of the world's history and beyond, was the night it had to happen. Gritting my teeth and deciding that it was comparable to ripping off the bandaid, I almost fell on the seat.

What a horrible sensation. The freezing cold seat and me coming together was not something I was enjoying. I hurried my activity as much as I was able. Didn't even bother to sing the ABC's in my head as I washed my hands half-heartedly and as quickly as possible.

I shut the light off, for which my eyes are extremely grateful. The way back to my waiting bed is impossibly long but I finally crawl in between the lukewarm blankets and get comfortable once again. My mind wanders listlessly back to wondrous sleep...

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Animal symphony

My eyes open unwillingly. It is still dark. My brain is alert instantly. What is going on? My body remains in its exact position. No need to move. Since it's still dark, just go back to sleep. Shut again, my eyes try to pull the brain back to blessed sleep. No, that would be too easy. My brain runs its gears and stumbles through pointless thought. Why am I awake? The rest of my body grumbles and tells the control center not to worry about it. This is silly. It doesn't matter. 

Oh the curse of being a light sleeper. Really anything can wake me out of deep slumber, even rolling myself over in bed. So it is detrimental to try to figure out what is keeping me from going back to sleep. Because then I won't be able to forget it. That would be all that my tired brain would be able to think about. Blast. There it is again. Cock a doodle doo! So that's what's keeping me up. That tiny little fluff ball we call a rooster. It has to be like 4:30 in the a.m. What is this crazy male chicken thinking? Cock a doodle doo! The sun isn't even close to being up. We've got in the least a couple of hours. 

Maybe he'll come to his senses and stop soon. Cock a doodle doo! Nope. Of course he has to greet the blatantly missing sun every 20 seconds. Makes perfect sense. Cock a doodle doo! Ugh! I stuff my fingers in my ears and wait for sleep to help me relax. In which case I'll drop my hands and be awakened once again by the obnoxious rooster. 

An hour later I am cognizant again. Cock a doodle doo! Stupid, &*#%@# rooster!!! I'm pretty sure that murdering this hormonal birdbrain would make me very happy. I doubt that I would feel any regret in my decision... Cock a doodle doo! Dad is still in bed and he might think that he just got out and ran away from his little flock of adoring hens... Maybe not. Cock a doodle doo! Knives and a headless rooster were starting to seem like a really good idea.

Ruff! No. Way. Ruff! Ruff! If the neighbor's dog really thinks that he is going to get away with a misdemeanor like this...he is VERY wrong. Cock a doodle doo! Ruff! Ruff! I love nature. But not at 5:30 in the morning when I should be slumbering. In the day time I probably wouldn't even notice either of these sounds but because everything else is quiet and still, these sounds are amplified ten times over. Cock a doodle doo! What have I done to deserve this?! Ruff! Ruff!

It would seem that this one little feathered creature was waking all of the surrounding animals. The neighbor's horses began to nicker and paw at the ground. Minuscule sounds made huge in my overactive brain. 

Cock a doodle doo! Ruff! Nicker! Ruff! Pawwww! Ca Kaw!! That's it!!! With magpies, I draw the line! I'm getting a shotgun out of my dad's gun case. This war WILL end in  my favor. I sit upright with fury boiling my blood and fueling my weary body. 

Sudden silence. Was this a dream? Could it be they were waiting to torture me once I tried to close my eyes again? Hesitantly I lay my head on my pillow. Will this seeming silence last? Unused adrenaline still laces my veins... I close my eyes unwittingly, knowing that in just a short amount of time... I will be awakened again. But hunting is more than agreeable to me if these hooligans started their untimely singing again...

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Silence...

Silence.  I've come to realize that at the worst times in my life...silence is a killer. Silence in the dark hours of night or early morning is deadly because that is when silence can do the most harm. It's emptiness is far too comforting to my self-pity and doubt. My mind doesn't function well in emptiness or silence. There is too much that can be thought about. Too much that needs thinking about. Thus, a chosen pastime to fill the space that silence provides, is found. To think. 

In my experience this kind of torturing silence is always associated with darkness. The dark and I…have an interesting relationship. When I need to hide my tears or just myself from the world, the dark is my most beloved friend. When I feel alone, lost, or afraid, the dark then makes me, my worst enemy.

At this point in my life, darkness and silence are the bane of my existence. But somehow I cannot make my thoughts leave it for the light. That inane part of human nature is to wallow in my own pity, my own depression. To seek comfort from the light and life, is healthy and I recognize that. Somehow it isn't as simple as just going to a place of light. Darkness has a nasty habit of dwelling in the corners of my soul. Like an itch, it sits at the back of my thoughts and picks away at the feeble light within me. I used to have so much light and it was so powerful. It was chipped away because I allowed it to be. 

But in all this empty silence, I find myself humming... Abide With Me, Tis Eventide. The darkness loses its enmity and the silence...the silence. It is still there. It still presses on my weary hope and faith. But now I have something to hold on to. Comfort and succor comes from my Savior. He is the eternal Light that can replenish mine. There is hope. I now have the will to look to the light on the far horizon and not lose faith. I can do this, this thing we call life. And in a blink of my little green eye...I will be with my Savior and Heavenly Father for the eternities. Silence...

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