He’s been having more dreams than usual….
At least he thinks so.
It happens to be that here lately he dreams most every night.
The dreams seem to last for days and after he wakes up, he’s exhausted, thrilled, disappointed and happy.
He’s never happy.
He hasn’t been happy for years in this Awake place.
He is only happy when he dreams.
In his dreams……He can fly!
All he wants to do, when he is forced into the grind of the world, is to be alone and quiet.
He doesn’t like to be alone….but that’s up to…them.
He won’t take the pills or liquor anymore to help him sleep, to help him “handle’ things.
He doesn’t dream with the dope, no dream……no flying……
No sky dancing…..
He lives deep in his mind during the Awake time……The dark corner next to a wet spot where all the noise and arguments rage behind his eyes…
He tried to stop the noise with an ice pick once but his courage failed.
It always seemed to fail when he needed to fight back or stand up for anything, or anybody.
“I can’t even stand up for myself” he thinks….
But when he was flying, he is above the pain and noise.
He flies through the rays of blinding light, like ribbons made of rainbows.
When he flies he would soar through clouds that were so cool and clean that it would make him breathless and tickle his face, pulling crystal tears of joy from the corners of his eyes as if drawing water from the well of his soul.
He would laugh and shout, cry……
He loved the wind pulling through his hair like a lovers hands.
He loved to dive toward the earth at blinding speed then, at the last second, climbing, clawing back heavenward….
Back into the clouds…..Back into the light.
Back to where laughter is louder than the rushing of flight.
The pinching of the cold wind, the heat of the sun take turns changing the color of his spirit.
But the Awake time would always bring him back down from the sky.
The Awake time would bring back the noise and arguments in the wet spot by the dark corner where he used to hide as a child when the drunken hitting started to fall through a bloody haze.
He had read somewhere that all he needed was the faith of a mustard seed and he could do anything.
Flying is much easier than moving mountains he thinks.
Oh….He has faith. The faith of a lost child who believes in love…..but never touches faith….or is touched by love.
He is tired of being Awake.
The noises and arguing behind his eyes are loud today.
He only wants to sleep…..
He just wants to dream…
He wants to fly……
The man stepped off of the roof ledge of the tallest building.
The wind ripped through his hair.
The smog of the city below tearing at his senses, drawing gray dead globs of bile from his widening eyes.
A smile breaks open upon his face….
He is flying…..!
***An unidentified man jumped from a 100 story building in the lower part of the city first thing this morning.
Eyewitness accounts said they thought that they had heard laughter before they saw the man falling, causing them to look up at the strange sound when they spotted him.
“He looked like a mustard seed against the sky at first” said one witness.
“He was laughing like a mad man, I could hear it all the way down here where I was standing” said another.****
The coroner zipped up the bag that contained the body of the man that couldn’t fly.
“It almost looks like he’s smiling” said a grimacing cop.
“Who’d ever dream that a person could take their own life?” said the coroner. “I still ain’t got used to it”
“Well…” said the cop, pushing back the brim of his cap…..
“He’s in a forever dream now”
The church bells began to ring across the city…..