between a memory and a dream


The sky stood shy almost as if it be the muse posing for an unknown artist who has yet to create his masterpiece. And beyond, the trees cavorted in the sunshine …a beautiful play of light and shadows. The scattered leaves shuffled around like children on a merry go round, the waves indulgent…and for a moment I heard the sound of my own laughter …the one where I am ecstatically happy for no reason at all and I wondered if it was déjà vu or a memory of you but I must have been dreaming cause I do know you’ve always preferred Versace Eros to Paco Rabanne…


28 thoughts on “between a memory and a dream

  1. exiledprospero says:

    Between a memory and a dream there is a chink of light coming from a door–the one you could swear you had closed all but ten minutes ago, when you were fully awake or, at the very least, when you thought you were fully in possession of your senses; then you heard the sound of laughter and wondered if it was your own.

    Nice, clear picture of a dream. Memories, in contrast, are not quite as clear, as we continually mold them, sometimes sloppily, to suit our purposes.

    • I has a strong feeling that my memories have been contorted to reflect my illusion of reality ….nothing really is as it ought to be…but then I wouldn’t really know 😄

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