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Free write 5/11/20

Where Are You Now

Is the question that those accustomed to things ask themselves while they lie awake in bed, unaware of what is going on across the world, where someone else might have the same problem that they face everyday that causes lack of empathy for others.  Why not just meet up with them, and see how it goes?  she asks herself as the cars whizz by.  Those in the cars are unaware of how they are messing with fate, unaware that angels are watching from heaven, waiting to make their move- something only the proudest of the proud can conceive- the obstacle of saving comes through about being saved.  Is being saved really all that important? she writes in the glow in the dark stars above her head, without a doubt, without the spinning around her that usually comes with a bad, or good, dream.

The next thing that runs through her mind is the fact that her dream was nothing new, just the same repetitive dream that haunts her like a spiderweb very dark in a corner in a deserted cabin that used to belong to the thief that taught her to believe in rainbows on rainy days.  She only sees him in the dream.  Sometimes he is sitting in an armchair with an angel on either of his side.  You could see his tail peaking out from the left side of the chair, and the angels’ halos glowed like mercury-filled light bulbs.  The angels held their hands in front of them while the man kicks off his boots and reaches inside of his pocket to pull out a deck of cards.

Have you ever played gin rummy? He asks, a cloud of dust circling around him.  The angel on the left smiles, while the one on the right turns her head to the side, as if to avoid the truth of uncertainty projected in her eyes. 

I walk away from the hallway I am standing in, take the cards from his hand, and through them across the floor.

52 card pickup, I say, my eyes crossed, my hands now folded across my chest.  The angels get up and run to the door at the other end of the room.  Suddenly the roof caves in and streaks of red light filter the particles of floating dust.  And I wake up.

 

Is it possible that I had visited hell in my dreams?  Maybe.  Is it possible that I was in danger while there?  Of course.  But I found myself fascinated with the place, the cloud of undenied faith rising through the roof, streaming through the purpose of my being there- the amazement that comes with the fact that it’s possible that heaven and hell aren’t the final answer. 

The stars over my bed are scattered about, without any definite shape.  I like to think that my constellation artwork led me through wormholes, into a place where only the elite and sensitive can go to.

One of my new favorite songs is Faded by Alan Walker.  In the video, a man is wondering alone, through a desolate land.  He seems brave, yet awkward.  You never see his face because he is wearing a mask, but his eyes are dark and alone, the same that I feel while watching him. 

Nothing scares me anymore.  -Lana Del Rey

DRAFT: This module has unpublished changes.