True Dreamer

by Lady Shinnite

There was no sensation of movement. There never was. It seemed a separate world a world of plush, vinyl chairs and creamy plastic. There were others who shared this existence within walking distance, yet just as reachable if they were a continent away. The enveloping silence was only broken by the same, rhythmic melody of the train

Clank clank. Pause. Clank clank.

The trees and surrounding landscape made a blurred, indistinct portrait. Pale, slender hands pressed to cool glass, as if in an attempt to trace themselves over the rough canvas of the outside world. A small smile crept up not only indistinct, but untouchable. Memories of youth sprang to mind spring days and cool, vanilla ice cream. Laughter and exclamations of excitement mixed with groans and biting complaints a chorus of young voices singing their opinions over which was more boring: staying in school, or going to an art museum. Stifling, yet serene, with stern, grey-haired ladies and cold, metallic plates all bearing the same, repetitive message.

Don't touch the portrait.

Clank clank. Pause. Clank clank.

Have you ever had a dream. a dream where things seemed too real? A dream whose sensations lingered despite your awakening?

Snow was falling, softening the portrait outside of the window. It was breath taking, in a way. The sky coloured a gloomy silver spilling frozen water below. Not that seeing the individual snowflakes was a possible feat, not while moving. Instead, a white, translucent river flowed by, swirling its lacy petticoats as it waltzed with the wind.

Yet despite the cold outside, the inside world contained nothing but the blessed heat which most beings craved as if in mockery of the natural ways of nature. The heat, however, railed against its imprisonment, and it, too, pressed itself against the icy glass. It was able to succeed where flesh had failed, slipping through the clear barrier between the worlds, yet leaving the way slightly open for the cold to seep through.

Escape, the only word fitting of such overwhelming desire to dance with the wind and let everything go. Yet, it was impossible to escape the plastic and metal cage that sped unceasingly. And so, the train plowed along, dragging its occupants to their destinations. These destinations, however, were as much a cage as the train if not moreso despite the lack of physical restraints.

Clank clank. Pause. Clank clank.

Have you ever woken up from something painful, only to feel that pain linger? Have you ever dreamed of being trapped in a fire flames so intense you could do nothing more than burn? Have you ever woken up from such a dream and panicked, because you could still feel the caress of greedy, heated tongues?

Has your body ever felt pain? pain remembered by mind and soul? Has a little voice nagged, hinting memories of such a pain? memories that you can never recall?

Ummm.. a tug on clothing, soft, yet a definite attention getter. Standing there, one hand wrapped around a pink-furred rabbit, is a little girl. Soft, gold-spun hair frames creamy, healthy skin. There is still a lot of baby fat around her cheeks, giving an angelic appearance. Though the storm increases it seems as if all attention is directed on this skirt-clothed, Child-Angel. Ummm have you seen Mommy? I can't find Mommy.

Clank clank. Pause. Clank clank. Screech!

No time to reply. Just the sudden feeling of movement in this material world. Just the sudden ignition of entrapped, unnatural heat. Fire shooting in veins, feeling hot enough to evaporate blood, but only for one blissfully short second before the arrival of cool blackness. Enveloping darkness and peaceful silence.

And then Nothing.

Have you ever had a dream where you had gotten a glimpse of yourself in the mirror? And, in that glimpse, did you spy someone you knew, intellectually, was not yourself someone too tall, the wrong sex, or with the wrong colour hair and eyes of a different hue? And, despite your mind insisting that it isn't you, your heart insists that it is both debating so fervently that you can do no more than to succumb to confusion, a gift from this painfully familiar stranger?

Have you ever woken up from such a dream and rushed to a mirror for reassurance and an end to this confusion? Yet, upon finding the object of your search, you simply stare into the eyes of an acquaintance? Have your emotions ever run rampant, the haze of exhaustion dulling logic and your dream-muddled brain pondering with intense fear: which is the true dream?

And who is the true dreamer?

Author's Notes ~ So, yeah, really weird, right? You know what brought this on? A curiosity to see if I could write something with no personal pronouns.

I think I succeeded fairly well. I mean, discounting the pronouns in the italicized portion and the one used for the child. The result, however, was a writing style most definitely not my own. But it's pleasing in some way, shape, or form. Now it's time for you guys to give the call. =P