25 March, 2009
He Whispers to Me While I Sleep
The short story I am working on right now reminds me of Byron in the most twisted way. I had even named the main character George at first, but then upon realizing the connection changed it to give myself some distance and to let the character grow into his own personality.
The strange obsession has brought about the Byronic cycles that sometimes haunt me in my sleep. In the morning, just before I open my eyes and while still suspended in that web of some dream, I hear a voice whispering familiar poetry to me. This morning that voice said:
"Our life is twofold; Sleep hath its own world,
A boundary between the things misnamed
Death and existence: Sleep hath its own world,
And a wide realm of wild reality,
And dreams in their development have breath,
And tears, and tortures, and the touch of joy;
They leave a weight upon our waking thoughts,
They take a weight from off waking toils,
They do divide our being; they become
A portion of ourselves as of our time,
And look like heralds of eternity..."
Funny, but that is how I have always viewed dreams. A separate reality, a weight upon my waking thoughts that divides me into two beings. As a Gemini, that sense of duality has existed all of my life, and I walk a thin line between the dream world and the waking place most people consider every day life.
I'm sure that's all crazy to you... but I'm happy here. Wherever I am.