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Idiots, Imbeciles, & Morons

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look awayyy beyonnnnd the blue. ho.ri.zon.

Sun|12.08

I've been having these dreams. Well, they're nightmares, really. I'm not afraid to go to sleep, it's not that. I'm not afraid. But the things I've been dreaming at night, the nightmares, feel more real than the day.

Day is pale, filled by the room, the hallway, the click of the mailbox opening and closing, my feet on the carpet. Neighbors, going outside for smokes. Laundry room. Garbage room. My room.

I lie on my back in the dark and notice the slivers of streetlight cutting through the tops and sides of the curtains. The light slips through the room and holds steady, skipping some things, illuminating others. Pinholes glow red across the faces of various electronics. Blue blurs from each digital clock. The occasional cough of a neighbor, maybe a ringing phone.

I breathe evenly, I try my adult mantras, then my college mantras, and finally, the ones from childhood. These are Sunday School songs, repeated over and over. Jesus loves me, this I know, for the Bible tells me so. Little ones to him belong, they are weak but he is strong. Or, I got the peace that passeth understanding down in my heart (where?) down in my heart (where?) down in my heart, I got the peace that passeth understanding down in my heart, down in my heart to stay.

Or, a song from my week at Christian camp. It's very repetitive. It's this: The Lord is my shepherd, I'll walk with him always. He leads me by still waters, I'll walk with him always. Always, always, I'll walk with him always. Always, always, I'll walk with him always. Then repeat from the beginning. It doesn't have to end if you don't want it to. Every so often, you bypass the still waters and lie down in green pastures. Always, always. Yes, based on the 23rd Psalm. How did you KNOW? Or perhaps you didn't.

I'm not religious. I'm not Christian, not anymore. But old things comfort me. Maybe the soothing comes from feeling protected, the lull (false, but never proven to be) of complete safety, so safe that safety doesn't cross your mind. Things were warm and good when I could hear my family moving and talking outside of my bedroom. Maybe I could smell coffee; maybe it was morning, and my parents were murmurring over breakfast (soft-boiled egg on toast, orange juice, coffee). Maybe my sisters were home, staying up late, and I could hear them laughing. Or my brother, talking on the phone from his room next to mine, trying to be quiet. Catching a word now and then.

In any case. When the om mani padme hum doesn't work, when "it's a big sky" sounds foolish and means nothing to me, if counting my breath or concentrating on the air as it enters and leaves my body makes me restless, when none of that eases my mind, I gotta lot of songs back there. Always. Always.

Endless. Endless.