The genesis of this piece is below. It’s short, as these are thoughts that came to me after trying to fall asleep one night days before leaving my last job.
A few weeks later, I saw an open mic night put on by my local library, so I decided to expand upon this, so I could read it there!
While I didn’t get a video of the actual event, here is a reading at home, along with some commentary about how I did. Let me know what you think!
Moments after laying my head down, an invigorating bolt of energy flutters from my head to my gut then back. My pulse is elevating, my skin is suffocating, my body temperature simultaneously mingling sweltering heat and frigid cold. Uncontrollably, my eyes flash open despite knowing there is nothing to see.
What I fear is not visible, nevertheless more tangible than what terrible fright could be here. Even a malicious intruder at the foot of my bed offers relief through a known set of outcomes, death or no death, but unlike any weapon this person may hold, my threat is in my hands.
The problem keeping me awake at night is mine and completely avoidable. I had the stable job others covet, supplying a paycheck sufficient for providing adequate food and shelter. Although abundance is rarely on the table, safety and security is, thanks to the deposit, precise to the penny, every two weeks into my bank account.
Beautifully, predictably tolerable…. if I could only accept this enchanting fate within this world. Actually, at one point my dreams were wholly contained inside these walls, amidst the colors, sounds, and aromas permeating the elixir for comfort and satisfaction, albeit someone else’s satisfaction, offering their gift of comfort. Thank you so much for your generosity.
Then one day, my eyes open to that world, property recognizing the nightmare that’s slowing me down. I break free, suffering through painful detox, cleansing my body to align with my soul.
Now it’s only my dreams leading the way. In my hands is my fate, hardly a weapon, though eliciting fear nonetheless. Nothing can save me from these fears, no screams, no cries, no calls to police. It’s just me, here in bed, with my dreams.
I am grateful for this opportunity. I am grateful for my dreams. I am grateful for this opportunity to pursue my dreams. These are my dreams. These are my dreams. It will be okay.
I must never forget these nights, even when my inevitable success tempts me to revise history to “it wasn’t so bad.” It is bad. It is hard. It’s my dreams, keeping me awake at night.
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