Falling Back

The simple fluttering of eyelashes
Turn and become that of a dream;
Inescapable.
The easy going reassurance
Turn into that of a sewing seam;
Shapeable.
In a flick of the wrist,
A delicate twist,
There again
To be pulled away,
Falling back
Into the day.
Birds.  Birds are singing now.
Green. The leaves are green now.
When did the season change?
How am I here?
Why is the sun setting?
My heart is holding dear.






But.. The silence is speaking.
My veins are creaking.
My thoughts are peaking.
In a moment my nails are going to my arms.
My doubt is leaking.
My words are shrieking.
Silence.
There is a warmth within now,
Full of potential.
My hands retract from my arms.






The simple fluttering of eyelashes
Turn and become that of reality;
A beauty that can't be described.
The easy going reassurance
Turned into that of a zipper;
One that is open and untied.
With a single motion,
Tugged to the ocean,
Back again
To run from sight,
Falling back,
Into the night.
Waves. Waves are crashing now.
Noise. My thoughts are restless now.
When did the season change?
How am I here?
The sun is rising.
My heart holds no fear.

The Feelings of Silence

His smile was slight, but I saw it.  There was an awkwardness between us that I didn't really understand.
"It's weird,"  He sighed.  Before I could ask what he meant he continued, "How we feel about each other."  A silence hung between us and I blinked, not knowing what to say.  We were walking now.  "How we feel so much towards one another but we don't hold hands or hug or--"  He paused for a second, "Kiss."
I felt my face burn, but I agreed.  We began walking between the trees quietly, and all I wanted to do was reach out for his hand and pull it into mine.  I wanted to look at his face and let his mouth draw my own in.
But I couldn't make myself do it.  It seemed that even though I wanted to so badly and even to have his reassurance about how we both felt, I just... couldn't do it.
I wondered why.
Looking back, I thought about our strange relationship.
It seemed as though no matter what I did or didn't do nothing changed.  It seemed like there was always an invisible wall.
I wondered if he tried to kiss me whether or not our lips would actually meet.  It felt strange thinking about it.
I don't think they would meet.
But I wanted them to.
The silence seemed like a wall too.  Something we couldn't really get past.  It made my heart heavy not being able to.
I turned to face him and watched his lips move into words.  But nothing came out.  I squinted and asked his to repeat himself.  I watched him laugh and 'speak' again.  But again, nothing came out.
It felt like he was further than ever.
I reached forward, but the gap grew.  He tilted his head in confusion and opened his mouth again.
"I miss you,"  His voice sounded like he was speaking under water.
I brought my hands to my face, and I felt a subtle dampness under my eyes.
I choked, "I miss you too."
The distance grew, and the trees seemed to thicken.
He spoke again.
"I can't--" My throat cracked, "I can't hear you."
His face fell with sadness.  He tried again.  I read his lips.
I was falling in love.
My heart broke.
"I was too,"  I brushed away tears, "I was too."

Tragedies

She sat on the wooden stairs leading to her home.
Her small fingers tapped the dark oak wood and she began clicking the toes of her Mary Jane's together.
She was so used to this place, for she grew up here.
Or, she grew up to her age now.
Which, seeing her short stature and little limbs, a person would assume she would be roughly eight years of age.
Which would be a proper assumption.
This little girl knew every nook and cranny within and outside of this house.
She knew the dark forest green paint chipped every summer and that he papa had to repaint it.
She knew that the wooden steps that she sat upon creaked no matter how little a person weighed.
She knew that when you walked through the bright white door you were hit by the steep staircase- also old dark oak, and when you got to the second floor and made an immediate right her room would be there.
She knew that if you decided to take a left there would be a bathroom.
And if you decided to keep going left there would be her parent's room.
She knew if you walked into the kitchen there was a loose floor board exactly six steps forward and three right, and under this floorboard was enough room for a little eight year old girl to hide during hide-and-go-seek.
She knew that in the endless forest backyard there was a 'cave' made out of logs and dead trees that she never did figure out how it was made before she--- ran out of time.
Her attention snapped away from her thoughts and she pulled the hand that was playing mindlessly with her long dark hair away from her face.
She never did find out what she looked like.  Oh no, see, mama had a belief about vanity evolving from when you were a young girl, so she wouldn't let her daughter look in any mirrors.
But her parents told her how lovely and cute she looked every day nonetheless.
Because compliments don't cause vanity.
She moved her hands from her sides to her dress, which was speckled with ash for some reason.
A reason she couldn't remember.  But she found it curious nonetheless.
The little girl's blue eyes looked in front of her now, as she watched a mother and father drive up to her home.
Curiosity spiked within her again as she watched the bug-looking car pull up the gravel road.
The car was a pale blue with silver trimmings.
She thought it looked rather boring.
Blue was such a common car colour at this day and age.
But maybe they'll make better cars with better colours.
Come on, Susan.  The man spoke.  She thought he looked rather dashing.  Slicked light brown hair with what seemed to be deep brown eyes.  Hm.  Handsome.  She had decided.
I'm coming, James.  Oh my... it really is in rough shape ain't it? The little girl decided the woman was Susan.
The little girl looked up at her house.  Rough shape?  Never.  The paint was just re-painted and everything seemed to have an unearthly pale glow to it.
She looked back to Susan and James. Susan seemed to hobble from the car, and as soon as she got on her feet she caressed her bulging stomach.
She was pregnant, the little girl decided.
She was a very pretty pregnant woman.  Her dark blond hair was braided into a bun and even though the little girl couldn't see Susan's eyes due to the large bulbous glasses she was wearing, she decided her eyes were as blue as the darkest pits of the sea.
She clicked her Mary Jane's.
Well the family before us... well I told you already.  It was devastating.  This was James.
Susan cleared her throat, I am not too sure about this, darling.  It could be haunted. 
But James scoffed and held out his hand for his darling wife and led them up to the oak stairs leading to the little girl's home.
 They paused, admiring the home.  The little girl watched them.
Susan was much prettier up close.  She had fleshy pink lips that seemed a bit too large for her face and a petite nose that kept her sunglasses up snobbishly.  But she was a very pretty woman, the little girl decided.
It'll take some work hon, but my gosh will it be worth it. James was glowing now.
Susan gasped suddenly, reaching to her stomach.
What is it?  What's wrong?  Is the baby okay? James lurched towards her, bringing her close to his body.
Susan's sunglasses fell off.
The little girl lifted the corners of her lips.  Her eyes were as blue as the darkest depths of the sea.
Black.
Yes, yes... it was just flailing.  Oh James, I don't know about this.  I feel really uneasy.  Like someone is watching us... As Susan said this she looked at the little girl sitting in front of her.
The little girl looked at her ebony irises.
And didn't blink as the woman and the man walked up the steps through her after the man cooed her into entering the home.
But when the little girl did blink and look at her home, the dark green paint was splattered with broken windows and beams that had collapsed.  The pristine exterior was black and burnt up.  The roof had half fallen off, leaving a large wooden rubble pile on the side of the house.
The little girl stood up slowly.
And she looked at her home.

A bright flash crossed her eyes and suddenly she was in her light blue nightgown, sleeping in her bed with light blue bed sheets.
She was very calm.
She was wide awake.
She heard it first.
A strange crackling that was unfamiliar to her, but familiar at the same time.
It was loud.
She shuffled out of her bed after pulling the covers off of her.
She leaned her ear against her ivory door and listened.
It was loud.
Carefully, in a confused state, she opened her door.
And was hit by a thick billowing column of smoke.
Startled, she leaped back, not shutting her door fully.
She could see the bright red flames licking the wooden floor.
And she realized why it sounded familiar in its unfamiliar state.
It sounded like the fireplace at Christmas time.
The little girl smiled a bit then, thinking about Christmas.
How, she won't get Christmas this year.
But how she hoped her mama and papa would get one.
She went to the wall furthest from the door and slid down it until she had her head in her lap.  She was coughing a lot now, as though her lungs were burning.
She was getting tired now, and the room was spinning.
The little girl brought her head against the wall, staring at the whirling ceiling.
It was a pretty ceiling.
A pretty home.
Her pretty home.
Then she saw a glint of something, and noticed the window.
Why hadn't she thought of the window?
She opened her mouth, only to be greeted by the smoke.
She was really warm now.  She had a thick layer of sweat consuming her.
She tried to get up, placing her hands on the floor to push her up.  But her arms gave and her knees buckled, and she lay on the floor.  It felt so cool.  She wondered if it would cool her down.
Her cheek was on the dark oak floor, and she could see the flames licking the ground around her.
She was hurting a lot now, she knew what was happening and she wanted it to end now.
She was closing her eyes now, thinking about how thirsty she was.
She tried to mover fingers.  It hurt, but she still had them.  They still moved.
And as she fell asleep she closed her hand around her pretty home.

Another flash crossed her vision.  She parted her lips, and she noticed how she wasn't thirsty anymore.
As the couple opened the door she could see the stairs stained black from the fire that hurt her.  From the fire that hurt her home.
She felt attachment, but understood what happened and understood what was to happen next.
She was closing her eyes, picturing her pretty home with the dark green paint and dark oak floors and light blue decor.
And she thought about her mama and papa and knew where they were they were okay.
...What did they do with the... bodies? Susan's high pitched voice broke her thoughts.  And she kept her eyes open long enough to hear James' reply.
The mother and father were saved in time, but the little girl-- Viola, the fire damaged the way to her room.  They couldn't get her in time.  They say she died from carbon monoxide poisoning before she was... too injured.
Viola felt herself smile and she closed her eyes.
Mama and papa have another Christmas.

Your Story

There are so many possible stories that occur throughout your life.
Possible choices that lead to possible relationships,
Possible relationships that lead to possible romances,
Possible romances that lead to possible loves,
Possible loves that lead to possible lives.
And each choice you make
Shifts the new outcome.
For instance,
Deciding to take a leap of faith and saying hello to someone
you for some reason find intriguing.
Even
If
You
Don't
Know
Them.
The scariest part though isn't asking them how their day was, oh no this is easy.
The scary part is seeing their response.
From how their faces will either light up or grow bored,
From the way they shuffle their feet or clear their throats.
You only have so much power.
Half the power.
They carry the other half, even though it feels like they carry all the power.
You both need to step forward.
And even that is a new possible story.
Another story is if you step forward and they step back.
Or they step to you but you pull down a veil.
The hardest part is accepting who you are for them to accept who you are.
The hardest part is very similar to the scariest part,
But the hardest part is what you do rather than what they do.
But this is the mentality portion.
You have to build up the courage to force yourself to step forward.
You have to remind yourself to breathe and to stop shaking.
That's the hard part.
But the best thing about this story
Is the story itself.
The build up to events,
The reactions they give.
The best part is going to bed at night feeling waves of content and overriding joy fall asleep with you into pale dreams of a happiness you never thought you would have at this time two, three years ago.
The best part is that the story you are in is your story.
It is intriguing and scary and hard.
But my god,
It's beautiful.

Dreams Are a Strange Thing.

She stood in front of the mirror, but the girl who she saw was not her--- even though it was.
For her hair, it was much shorter.
Her nose, it was much smaller.
Her eyes, they were much larger.
Her lips, they were much fuller.
Her skin, it was much paler.
But it was her.
For, you see, as she lifted her arms-- so did the other girl's.
When she moved her mouth-- so did the other girl's.
But when the girl in the mirror spoke, the girl who was standing before it did not.
They girl with short hair said robotic-ally, as she poked her cheek "I am so much paler than you."
"But aren't we the same person?" Asked the original girl.
A large smile was planted on the short haired girl's lips.  "Oh no.  You'll never be me."

Lucifer

Lucifer,
I wish I had spent my moments
when I was younger
praying for your pain
to dissipate into the fiery sea
that you know rule over
instead of praying
that my family would be alright.
Because I knew that eventually they would be
but you would suffer
for the rest of eternity.
I wonder if you cry
at night when people are dreaming
of their heaven
and I wonder if you
ever feel lonely in the
pit you were exiled to
and I wonder if the angels
who sided by you
ever felt like they weren't
the ones who were evil
but the ones who wanted
a change of their faith.
I wonder if you pray to
your father
trying to get him to speak to you
to tell him what you meant
and what you wanted
and how you love him
even though he threw you into his greatest creation;
Hell.
I wonder about all the people who pray to God
but never once decided to pray to the one being
who needs to be saved the most.
Not saved as in religion,
but saved from your emotions
and pain
and suffering that you go through
every moment
your lungs expand.
I wonder if you ever think about how your name means
Star.
How it's supposed to guide people through the night
and how it's a reflection of how someone sees them self.
I wonder if you ever say Star slowly
and let it linger on your tongue
because you were guiding
the angels
who wanted
change.
You were
standing up
for what
you believed
in
and
you
got
punched
for
thinking
so
differently.
I prayed to you last night.
I hope that you heard me.
For I said how strong you were
for pushing through
against your father's anger.
How you've held your own.
How you tried to do something taboo,
but when we revolt against the kings down here
they're called revolutions
and what you did was sin.
I prayed that you took a breath in
and felt pride that you went with your heart
passion
goals.
You went with who you were.
Are.
You're a Star, Lucifer.
You're a Star.

A Strange, Beautiful Dream

I have a lot of dreams.
Weird dreams.
Not ones that take place in the supermarket and the can I'm looking at is for fish children.
Oh no.
It's like I'm in a different life from a different universe.
I think that's why I believe my body is sleeping but my spirit goes to a different dimension.


I was packing because I was visiting a home, and it was time to leave.  There was a boy there around my age who was getting on my nerves, and I knew I had to talk to him before I left.  When I got to his room to get my bag (I was staying in his room seeing as there were two beds, three actually, but I'll get to that) and he was sitting on his bed reading.
When I opened the doors his eyes flicked up and went back to his book.  I said meekly that I came to finish packing.  He didn't respond until I started packing.
"Do things ever confuse you?"  He put the book down.
"Yes, all the time, really."  I was unzipping my bag to put in clothes.
"Aiya, what if something were to happen?  Whether you're on the streets or not... or, here's a better example,"  He scooted closer to me, "If I were to kiss something, someone, or you, what would happen?"  His face was getting closer and he repeated himself, "If I were to kiss something, someone or you..."  My eyes were fluttering shut and dammit!  I couldn't open them!  I wanted to see this!  Why can't I open them! I felt his breath get closer and my opened slightly enough to see his lips.  I felt a soft, beautiful pressure on my cheeks, and after a moment he pulled away.
I was almost disappointed he didn't kiss my mouth, but I was so wonder-stuck I still. Couldn't. Open. My. Eyes.  I was getting embarrassed.  Finally I got them open and he was smiling at me.

The scene switched to us laying in bed (No, we didn't do anything, I knew that much)  We were simply holding each other, sometimes kissing.  But I knew I had to pack.  So I told him that, and began to get up.
He asked if I had to.
"Aiya, please."
But I tilted my head and said, "When I'm done we don't have to stress about anything."

Now, I know I said my dreams get weird, and this doesn't sound weird.  It sounds normal.  This isn't.  First off, I can't speak to guys I like.  I feel like I'm annoying them, so I wait for them to talk to me- which is sometimes.  Second, we haven't got to the weird part.

Suddenly there were bangs on the door, and he jumped out of bed in a fury, panic swept through me as I got so very confused as to what was happening.  Two ghost girls appeared (I knew they were dead because I just knew)  and hugged me.  The scene changed to a train.  We were all in a train, and the man banging at the door (I knew he was a man because he was banging on glass doors) was still trying to get in.
There were a lot of us now; me, the boy, the two ghost girls (Who lived in the bedroom with their brother before they died of a sickness, again, I just knew this)  as well as a few of my family members and closest, oldest friends.
The boy gave us this tube and told us to put it on our teeth.
Ha. Ha.  We did it without second thought.
The man was still banging, oh gosh it was scary and intense and crazy.
When we put the paste on our teeth, the green paste made our teeth- guess which colour-- Green!
We were all so confused, and the train wasn't moving but we knew we would get to our destination.
The boy who kissed me pulled me off to the side and I asked, "What's going on (I said his name, but it blurred out in the dream.)?"
He hugged me and said, "Magic and Natural power go against one another."
And then I looked at the man on the opposite side of the glass door holding a laser pen, trying to get in.  And it was melting through the glass.
Ohhhh.  It made sense now.  The boy had some kind of power (Probably intense charisma, but I never find out) and the man uses magic!  And they're enemies!

The dream ends with the boy giving us new tubes of paste to make our teeth white again, but the colour is bright, glowing white-- like when Ross bleaches his teeth.


If you've been on my blog before, you know my name is Emily.  In dreams I've never told my name to anyone, and it felt like it was me.  But in this dream, I not only told him my name, but I said my name was Maiya.  Not only was that weird, but I was given a nickname in it-- Aiya.
This is the real reason I wanted to write down this dream, because this has never happened to me before with my memory.  I thought it was incredible.
Thanks for reading, you lovely soul,
-Emily