Dreams

The same buildings go by in the same blur of brick and concrete as they do every morning that I have made this commute. The same press of bodies forced together in a too-small space, all sharing the same air. Multiple strands of conversation come to my ears: a mother unhappy with her teenage daughter's behavior, a couple planning a future date, a husband plotting infidelity over his too loud speakerphone. I find myself sliding into a trance, hypnotized by the steady vibration of the train and swaddled by the heat of the close crowd. My conscious begins slipping to a cool far-away place.

In my fugue state, I find myself standing upon an open cliff overlooking a landscape bursting with life and color. As I gaze over the land I see a clear stream winding lazily through the woods. A cooling Summer breeze caresses my overheated body and brings a sudden stunning clarity with it. I know this place yet I do not. It is a dreamscape whose soul I recognize because I have been here before. While details shift, the shape of this dream's soul is always the same. The dream manifests to simultaneously bring comfort and to taunt me in my inability to mate my reality and this ideal.

Piercing pain in my side from a jab of the elbow of the passenger beside me, brings me crashing back to the reality of the overcrowded train. A furtive glance and a hasty, mumbled apology from the offending elbows owner offered the only real human interaction upon this ride. With my senses restored I find myself close to my stop, and upon arrival, I exit the cramped compartment to the equally cramped platform. Pushing and dodging my way through the crowd I make my way to work. The sun sets and the world darkens as the fiery chariot slides beneath the horizon. My return ride home offers the same stage and the same actors and actresses as the morning. I arrive home, I sleep.

The same buildings go by in the same blur of unwashed brick and concrete. The same press of bodies forced together in a too-small space, all sharing the same barely breathable air. Multiple strands of conversation assault my ears: a group of tourists jabbering excitedly about what they plan see today, a young couple having a spirited public fight, a wife plotting infidelity over her too loud speakerphone. I find myself sinking into another trance, hypnotized by the steady vibration of the train and smothered by the heat of the close crowd. My conscious begins slipping to a far-away place.

I find myself standing upon a narrow path deep within a vibrant fall landscape. A plethora of reds and golds of all shades meet my eyes. Autumn embraces my body gently and brings a sudden stunning clarity with it. I know this place yet I do not. It is a dreamscape whose soul I recognize because I have been here before. While details shift, the shape of this dream's soul is always the same. The dream manifests to sting and to abuse me in my inability to mate my reality and this ideal.

Sudden pain in my foot from a misguided step of the passenger beside me brings me crashing back to reality. An aggressive glance and a mumbled expletive from the offending person offered the only real human interaction upon this ride. With my senses dragged back to me I find myself close to my stop, and upon arrival, I exit the cramped compartment to the equally cramped platform. Pushing and dodging my way through the crowd I make my way to work. The sun sets and the world darkens as the fiery chariot slides beneath the horizon. My return ride home offers the same distasteful stew of human ingredients as the morning. I arrive home, I sleep.

The same decrepit buildings go by in the same blur of stained brick and concrete. The same press of unwashed bodies smashed together in a too-small space, all sharing the same unbreathable air. Multiple strands of conversation incessantly writhe their way into my ears: another couple having a public fight, another spouse plotting infidelity over a deafening speakerphone. I find myself plummeting into a trance, hypnotized by the steady vibration of the train and suffocated by the heat of the close crowd. My conscious begins slipping to a far-away place.

I find myself standing knee-deep in pristine white snow, the air alive and shimmering with a million specks of crystalline water. Each eddy of the wind visible swirling around me. Winter embraces my body and brings a sudden stunning clarity with it. I know this place yet I do not. It is a dreamscape whose soul I recognize because I have been here before. While details shift, the shape of this dream's soul is always the same. The dream manifests to bludgeon and rend me in my inability to mate my reality and this ideal.

The sudden jarring of the train as it slams into the station brings me crashing back to reality. With my senses brought back to me, I find myself at my stop. I exit the cramped compartment to the equally cramped platform. Pushing and dodging my way through the crowd I make my way to work. The sun sets and the world darkens as the fiery chariot slides beneath the horizon. My return ride offers the same as the morning. I arrive home, I sleep.

The same husks of buildings go by in the same blur of brick and concrete. The same press of bodies forced together in a too-small space, all sharing the same near toxic air. Multiple strands of conversation burrow and gnaw their way into my ears: another couple having a public fight, another mother lamenting her child's behaviors, another spouse plotting infidelity over a deafening speakerphone. I find myself suffocated by the heat and the intense pressure upon my chest made worse by the close crowd. My conscious begins slipping through a pinpoint of light surrounded by darkness.

I find myself standing in an immense grassy field. Flowers surround me and fill the air with a sweet scent. The field is alive with the buzzing of a thousand insects and the scurrying of small creatures. The Spring breeze gently embraces my body and brings with it a sudden stunning clarity.

I know this place well. It is a dreamscape whose soul I recognize because it mirrors my own. While details shift, the shape of this dream's soul and mine is always the same. I walk into the field knowing that my reality had finally met and matched my dreamscape.