I can't be losing sleep
over this, no I can't
and now I cannot stop pacing
give me a few hours
I'll have this all sorted out
if my mind would just stop racing
somewhere in between- lifehouse
Sandman
The dream always begins with a train station. Either at the turnstile or the platform and sometimes even on the train itself. I'm either sitting or standing but it doesn't matter which. I'm always waiting. For someone or some thing . I don't know yet.
At least not for the few moments when the wind blows around me and my hair is at its mercy. I stay still, with my fist wrapped tight around a ring that is attached to a long silver chain.
When the wind dies down, the chime from a clock reaches my ears. The train starts to move and I see my self inside as it draws away; I look out the window and watch my own reproachful face stare back from the platform.
I count the chimes. It's been counting down form twelve since I was fifteen. Tomorrow I am twenty-six. What happens after the last chime?
%%%%%%%%%
She gasps, her eyes fly open and she sits up. Instinctively she reaches for the necklace that was around her neck but is not anymore. Stilling her racing heart, she stands and hardly winces when her foot touches the cold hardwood floor. Outside the sound of heavy rain drowns out her rapid heartbeat.
She shivers and moves towards the window seat with its soft cushion and velvet pillows.
Rain drops chase each other down the glass pane, blurring her view of the world outside. The woman wraps the afghan over her shoulders, her mind already replaying her memory of that dream.
She saw herself as she had so many times before standing at her seat and count the number of chimes the clock makes. She would then turn to the window and launch herself at it. The impact shatters the glass and shards of it fly in all directions but none can touch her and she soars out, her eyes closed in peace.
She opens her eyes, and watched the edge of a cliff move further away as she falls. She can feel the wind in her hair, through her fingers, her arms wrapped loosely around herself. The metal chain holding her ring is cold on her neck. Her eyes close again and she lets herself fall.
She knows at the last moment she can stop it; she can open her wings to bring herself up. But she can't, her arms lie adamantly across her chest and refuse to spread. In panic she snaps open her eyes and all she can see is a pair of blue eyes. Their clarity and brightness blinded her, the cold expression in the aquamarine depths froze her heart.
She would wake up then.
Shaking herself out of her reverie, the woman sighs and rubs a hand over her tired eyes trying futilely to get the image of her dream to disappear. She continues to watch the rain. She had always hated it, especially tonight. The rain would weigh her down, clog her feathers.
Tonight, Rinoa Heartilly wanted nothing more than to fly.
over this, no I can't
and now I cannot stop pacing
give me a few hours
I'll have this all sorted out
if my mind would just stop racing
somewhere in between- lifehouse
Sandman
The dream always begins with a train station. Either at the turnstile or the platform and sometimes even on the train itself. I'm either sitting or standing but it doesn't matter which. I'm always waiting. For someone or some thing . I don't know yet.
At least not for the few moments when the wind blows around me and my hair is at its mercy. I stay still, with my fist wrapped tight around a ring that is attached to a long silver chain.
When the wind dies down, the chime from a clock reaches my ears. The train starts to move and I see my self inside as it draws away; I look out the window and watch my own reproachful face stare back from the platform.
I count the chimes. It's been counting down form twelve since I was fifteen. Tomorrow I am twenty-six. What happens after the last chime?
%%%%%%%%%
She gasps, her eyes fly open and she sits up. Instinctively she reaches for the necklace that was around her neck but is not anymore. Stilling her racing heart, she stands and hardly winces when her foot touches the cold hardwood floor. Outside the sound of heavy rain drowns out her rapid heartbeat.
She shivers and moves towards the window seat with its soft cushion and velvet pillows.
Rain drops chase each other down the glass pane, blurring her view of the world outside. The woman wraps the afghan over her shoulders, her mind already replaying her memory of that dream.
She saw herself as she had so many times before standing at her seat and count the number of chimes the clock makes. She would then turn to the window and launch herself at it. The impact shatters the glass and shards of it fly in all directions but none can touch her and she soars out, her eyes closed in peace.
She opens her eyes, and watched the edge of a cliff move further away as she falls. She can feel the wind in her hair, through her fingers, her arms wrapped loosely around herself. The metal chain holding her ring is cold on her neck. Her eyes close again and she lets herself fall.
She knows at the last moment she can stop it; she can open her wings to bring herself up. But she can't, her arms lie adamantly across her chest and refuse to spread. In panic she snaps open her eyes and all she can see is a pair of blue eyes. Their clarity and brightness blinded her, the cold expression in the aquamarine depths froze her heart.
She would wake up then.
Shaking herself out of her reverie, the woman sighs and rubs a hand over her tired eyes trying futilely to get the image of her dream to disappear. She continues to watch the rain. She had always hated it, especially tonight. The rain would weigh her down, clog her feathers.
Tonight, Rinoa Heartilly wanted nothing more than to fly.