Dreamscapes

This is something that I wrote a long time ago when I was really young. It was published in my high school literary journal and I have recently rediscovered it.

Dreamscapes

In a cabin, looking out, I only see black and white. Looking through the foggy glass I can only make out bare shadows and shapes in the blinding whiteness of the snow and the looming darkness. Beyond the snowbound rusting fence lie three gloomy graves. The graves lie there ever-knowing and yet oblivious to all. The snow blankets everything with a false warmth that only invites death to the lonely stuck in the freezing wilderness. Looking up in the unending, cloud covered, gray sky, I can only hope and pray that a ray of light, a ray of salvation, will shine through and illuminate the dark frozen hell, which has become the mortal world. In this land of shadows stands one solitary cabin, blanketed in show, inviting me to come in and be alive again. It whispers to me to leave the world of mortal death and cold that I inhabit and come to the light and warm happiness. As I enter the bright cabin the world around me howls for my death, screams for me to turn around and indulge in the dark and soulless void of shadows and snow. Never ending snow. The dark shadow of the cabin on the white snow twists and turns...

As I gaze across the still, serene waters, I wonder. I wonder if I can feel as calm as it when time passes us by. I feel my heart beat for her as each tiny wave rises then falls on the miniature shores. The waves live in perfect splendor then die, frantically struggling to escape the steely grasp of the shore. Shall we too, struggle to the very end? No, we will be. Always, and forever. The mirror like surface of the water reminds me of her. Reminds me of how I see myself in her, how I see herself in me. The water whispers gently, as I whisper to her. There is no reply from me. We are one with the water. The waves ripple and start to change...

I am running through the shallow light and twisting through shadows of trees long forgotten. I'm lying upon a dew encrusted pale green bench in the middle of this forest of dreams. Lying there, staring at the carpeted ceiling of leaves, I get a feeling of being watched, of being judged. My insides are turned outside to be seen by all, to be judged by the mother of earth, of nature. I gaze at the myriad of bright sunbeams reaching for the spongy surface of the forest floor. The dank smell of rotting leaves wafts up and reminds me of life eternal and how this forest always here, watching. The pale yellow of ambient light glancing off the dark trunks of trees standing, ever silently, row after row of nature's soldiers. I slowly inhale the ancient life force and my eyes flutter open....

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