A DREAM WITHIN A DREAM
"Sunflowers don't trust the sun, they trust the Earth.
That's why they face away from the sun."
24th November, 2017.
It began with a gentle tug on my sleeve, a soft whisper in my ears, and the wind knocking me off my feet. No, it began with me waking up in my bed with the prospect of believing today would perpetually be the same as any other day; to wake up and get ready for school with a kiss I would plant on my parents' cheeks. I'd say goodbye and get on the bus, greet my friends, and plug my earphones into my ears, blasting Hozier till I reached school.
But I didn't expect to get into an accident.
I could still hear the tires screeching and feel my head being rocked into the window next to me, breaking it and making me bleed in torture before I finally passed. But the prospect on whether I passed out or actually passed still eluded me to this day, I don't even know where I am now.
The world I had found myself in was covered with a blanket of mystique, but it electrocuted me by the fuzziness of the intangible, ineffable memory it left me. There were no cars to coat the air in impurity, no silence in a hall that smelled like booze, and no person I knew who'd ever had let me go.
It was as if a long term wanting of wanderlust had shook me from awakening when I finally came back from this dream, and now here I was – in a small tent in the middle of nowhere, writing this as I die of some poisonous snake's bite. If anyone ever found this, I want you to share this story. I want you to tell the world that this is my mark, both in this world and the world I dreamt of.
Do not let me die as nothing but a forgotten memory to my parents who are probably dead, my friends who have forgotten me, and the figures in my dream – weeping for me to not walk into the light.
Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of light.