dreams

I lie in bed. The lights are all out, doors closed, windows shut and blinds drawn. The last few sights are the tiny red speck of an LED bulb from the power adapter of the distortion pedal and the fading backlight of the cellphone screen. I have set my alarms, arranged my belongings, and rested my glasses on the side table. A few seconds later, all disappears.

It's not really a shut-down of the entire eyeball but rather more of the head. I attempt to stare right through the skin of my eyelids, through the blackness, into even more blackness. In the darkness I picture a space full of tiny, white, radiating dots that go in and out of focus--stars. Millions of them, uncountable, are strewn upon a 360-degree panoramic view. The rest of the supposed solar system has vanished, leaving no trace, even in the form of a single particle of gas, a molecule of water or a grain of sand from the surface of the planet.

My left eye undergoes a slight itch, making it feel like the surface of the earth--perfectly rounded and stuck upon its axis, but not evenly smooth. While it remains still and unmoving, my right eye pivots about to face the left. And I can see, through one eye, the single lone illustration of planet earth, suspended right in the middle of the whole galaxy of stars. Still, the sun is nowhere to be seen, and so are the other planets.

My right eye frantically darts about the whole picture, searching for where the rest of the universe used to be, only to no avail. A small white light, one of the stars, slowly starts to shine brighter and brighter by the moment, the only prominent one standing out in the darkness. It gets closer each second, like a great silver spacecraft with its undercarriage lights turned on, drifting in for the landing. Just then---



It's morning.