Counting Backwards to Truly Awake
I fall asleep in the hands of a
clock that ticks backwards. I find the
counter motion comforting as I regress into dreams of the past (sometimes even
mine). I welcome the variation, it keeps
me coming back, night after night, even though I am never tired.
Tonight my eyes close on visions
of a recognizable childhood. Parents and
pets have names I do not have to fabricate.
I let them pass through my fingers, soothing sensations of something
almost tangible. I giggle, pretending it
tickles more than my fancy to walk past this psychological conveyor of ghostly
images. Laughter stops the flow. I am twelve, dancing with my two best friends
in a bedroom that was not mine. We were
dressed up in electric colors, holding spatulas as microphones. We were miniature Madonnas, ready for our
million-dollar contracts. We did not
understand what it meant to sing off key.
Hourly chime shattered the image,
replaced it with another. This one fell
like a blanket. Snow, piles of it lay in
waiting for an overstuffed-suit and boots with eyes to come running, crashing
through it. Behind me a tiny puppy, all
black fur and paws two times too big for its body mimicked my every move as
best as he could. All that could be seen
of us was hat tassels and tail. We were
consumed by icy white. Our laughter
seemed frozen around me for more than a few moments, continued to linger even
as invisible hands forced me further back, years elapsing with every footstep.
I stopped again, when something
shiny caught my eye. A tiny tiara, prize
for petite perfection, smiled back from a home-made trophy case. I was now five, and my mother dressed me like
a lacy sailor. I charmed three anonymous
faces. Judges. Of
what? I wondered, but continued to tell them a story about helping my
father fix his car. They laughed and
made notes, later announced my name. I
had to stop playing to collect the rhinestone crown, never fully understanding
what it was for.
Suddenly it was dawn, and I could
follow myself no further. I opened my
eyes, reborn to reality. Today I would
breathe a little lighter knowing no matter how many times I abandon myself, all
I have to do is close my eyes and wait for my own return.
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