Oh the experiences we lose while we lay sleeping, quietly dreaming.. Im usually fast asleep by this hour. Tonight however, a sickness has awoken me. A short while ago I was jarred awake by a rather sharp pain in my stomach. When I first opened my eyes i was filled with wonder, for the night had turned my bedroom into something so whimsical that I cannot believe that I ever went without experiencing it. The white light of the moon has painted a picture, lush and dynamic, just for me. The shadows being casted tell me the story of a ballet that the ivy which grows around my window is performing. The glass vials of various bacteria growing along my windowsill all appear to be lined up, as if they have front row seats to the show. The ballet stretches and elongates across the plants in front of my window, over my shag rug, and across my quarters to a nautical chest that the show is using as a projector screen. The crystals on my shelf have been turned into spotlights. The patter of a slight rain is has made audions out of my conch shells. My soul is engaged, a theatre buff at a private show. Though this may be my first attendance to one of these pantomime ballets. I have a feeling that my soul will not allow it to be amongst my last.
Posted on: Sat, 13 Sep 2014 13:32:44 +0000
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