Take on The Transience of Dreams

Maybe it makes sense that people of my nature do not prefer the stench of reality. I know what happens now happens in the most volatile of mysteries: this moment, here and then never again. I'd rather the randomness of impressions,  

a look given more meaning than it ever really contained, the inner circus that follows;

the certainty that eyes are looking at you behind the trees, terror but also soul-shaking delight;

the flush of danger and that unrepeatable closeness to death upon letting go, the fear, a switch in your consciousness: there now, you have ceased to be and everything is okay;

the heart-pinching calm in your core, sitting beside that unnamed person, knowing with him/her lies an eternity of {not of smiles, or of peace, even} adventure!, the kind that keeps you up for days, talking, writing, rolling in bed.

I'd rather this than the drudging ennui of this-then-that, of one-two-three, beginning-middle-end, A-B-C, cause-effect, there is satisfaction in that sometimes but only if you've placed the source of your joy too close, too treacherously close, to things that fade away.

Or to things in your head, given names: conquest, erudition, ascendancy.

Choice affronts us from all sides: all you have to do, all you have to do, is to do it. Soak up now like it were the only thing left. It takes courage and mindfulness and childishness but there, death is always so far away.

(Note on August 12, 2012: This was originally posted on my Tumblr.  I'm doing some online housekeeping and I figured I'd leave my Tumblr out of the drama and corral introspective shit here. I left my blog last August of 2009 but I've reemerged somewhere between that and this.)