Pre-Dreams.

There is this fleeting moment when we are in bed, and I can imagine your breaths floating downwards, falling softly on your chest. I can hear your eyes shutting silently, eyelids fluttering with conserved energy and the blackness starting to soak our consciousness in a time too swift. The night light in the background is making an entrance every once in a while and I feel you tossing and turning, rearranging yourself on the pillows. Our feet touch; mine cold and yours warm and cosy, we feed off each other and smile.

There's this time before we sleep when we try hard to resist the urge to just go blank; just a few seconds of our brains trying to review the day's occurrences in divergent lenses. Popping up, we watch them and a moment later, the blackness prevails and we no longer resist nor fight.

There's this time when we feel our dreams positioning before us; a glimpse of our humanity before we fade. We see ourselves, surroundings and stimuli, we find our environment and make sense of it before we get lost in a dimension too far and intangible. Our awareness softens and questions of why, where and when are left behind this veil separating us from our inner world. They accumulate and precipitate around the corners of our eyes, pushing them down and we see everything but light.

There's this moment when I am trying to cherish you beside me, feeling the love oozing from your skin. Your touch is shaking with an inextinguishable kind of fervour, and it allows me to express what's hidden. I smile as you cling on my back and my heart twists a little because a few days later, I shall dwell in my sleep alone yet accompanied.

The thoughts of you make me cry sometimes, because I miss you. Sometimes I just miss the awareness of being near you, feeling your presence and not more. There's this energy you release when you're around, a fragrance you provoke, a laughter you ignite. And it's what I am longing for, those nights in my room as the twilight darkens and I have nothing to do.

Spill yourself in my dreams and expose yourself a little too much till you're real to me. But I shall wake, in a presence of you I cannot perceive.

I do not know if it is more difficult to forget you, or remember you all together when they all lead to one another. They all lead to a definition of you- and with you, comes a part of me which remains forlorn, darkened yet alive.


To my sister.