Every night, for as long as I can remember, I dream awake. The world is in slumber, but I am awake, watching the moon wax and wane at will. It is times like these when I feel it most; the silence so loud and deafening, yet so still. I always feel lonely in the silence, and empty…like a part of me is missing.'
"But what part?" I whispered to the darkness.
It was another one of my many sleepless nights. I turned to the old grandfather clock reading quite clearly its black painted roman numerals: one o'clock in the morning; empty one o'clock. I turned my gaze back to my open window. A chill wind blew in from the outside, fluttering the blue flowered curtains and giving the room the smell of freshly cut grass. I smiled softly and inhaled deeply, trying to lose myself in that smell.
I'd always loved being outside. There was a freedom in having no walls to hold you in. Being one with all the elements of nature, God, in all their glory.
I gazed towards the sky, trying to ignore my empty feelings; but there is not true distraction in silence. Feeling very lost, I closed my eyes, and tried to welcome the reluctant sandman. Maybe he would come tonight, and take me into my imaginary world. The one that I escaped to every night, and everyday.