Chemical Dreams

sleeping with his unconscience




I was running a bit on the elliptical today like I sometimes do, in the basement, when I looked out the backyard door.
It was one of those moments where my life hit me like that.
What I saw was 8 pm, and the sky was a dark blue ocean.
Maybe I should rephrase that.
The sky was an ocean.
I was staring at the ocean floor, and I knew somewhere up there, where I couldn't see, there was a surface.
And there were mermaids, I guess, swimming around.
They weren't calling to me or anything, I was calling myself to them. To open up the damn door and go out there and close my eyes again.

But it's not my time yet.
Because I haven't finished running. Because all I can do right now is stay on the elliptical. Running, chasing things I don't want, won't get, and never felt like I had. Listening to music hoping it will make things less stationary.

So to the right is my ocean of a future. To my left is, well, upstairs. That place I go after I finish running because, hell, I need it. I need the shower, I need the food, and I need to stop thinking up all this shit.


And minutes pass and the sky grows darker. Everything disappears behind the screen door, and I can't see it anymore. So I stop running. Quit my heels, quit the headphones.


Float back down from my ridiculous left-handed trains of thought, and head upstairs for a shower.