That Fleeting Moment

“The best thing about dreams is that fleeting moment, when you are between asleep and awake, when you don’t know the difference between reality and fantasy, when for just that one moment you feel with your entire soul that the dream is reality, and it really happened.”

I turned around and saw myself standing in front of a giant building with no windows or doors.  It was a magnificent building, made entirely of weathered bricks.  I walked around the building, searching for a way to enter.  I circled the building five times before noticing the only way in was a door that was easily 15 feet above me.  At the mere thought of it, I walked through the door.  I didn’t question it, but continued on into the building.  Despite the lack of windows, the room was amazingly lit with sunlight streaming in through the open ceiling.  Lush and lavish gardens were growing amazingly exotic flowers and there was a waterfall somewhere, churning water in a relaxing, steady cadence.

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Without doing much other than asking myself a question, I found myself going into a second room.  This room was made of marble and filled with big cushy sofas and I walked over to one and splashed myself down on to one.  I instantly sunk into the cushions, relishing the soft upholstery and the plush cushions as they enveloped me.  As I sat there, I could hear the faint sound of the ocean, falling and breaking on the shore.  I closed my eyes and thought about having one of these couches in my own house by the ocean, someday.

When I opened my eyes, I was in a new room.  This room was full of books.  Books everywhere, in shelves from the floor to the never-ending ceiling.  Books in piles on the floor.  Books stacked on tables.  And then there were chairs everywhere to sit down and open the books up.  I reached for one of the beautiful leather-bound books and flipped through the pages of the book, letting the smell of the paper intoxicate me, knowing that the smell meant there was an amazing adventure waiting for me to have.  I sat down in the nearest chair and opened the book.

Just as I started to look down at the first page, I felt something pounce on me.  I opened my eyes and found myself in reality.  The Daughter was up and waking me up because she wanted to get dressed and have breakfast.  The clock brightly read 6:12 am.  I sighed because no matter how many mornings this happens, I still cannot get used to 6:12 am.

Would I trade my dreams for never being tired and never having to sleep again?  No.  Not when my dreams are grand adventures, both fantastical and realistic, feeding off my subconscious, helping me muddle through my decisions that face me.  I need to be able to “sleep on” things sometimes because it’s my dreams that help me unravel the answer. I wouldn’t trade that for anything in the world.

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3 Comments

Filed under NaBloPoMo, Writing

3 responses to “That Fleeting Moment

  1. I can’t imagine not dreaming – how would we recharge and where would we draw creativity?

  2. I love the dream you described above. I couldn’t imagine not dreaming either. I really need that escape from reality and would probably go crazy without it.

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