June 7th (I Am a Dream)

I love watching the sunrise.  Everything is covered in sparkling morning dew and bathed in a honey-gold light.  There is a hushed still that is only known before 7AM, where not even the birds are awake to make music.  I feel like I’m the last man on Earth, and the world is all mine.  The sun breaks over the horizon, first slow and timid, and then suddenly.  The warmth from the first rays of sunlight melt away the cool night from my face.  Yesterday evaporates into a memory.  There is only here and now, and I’m taking it all in.  I inhale deeply, the rich, robust aroma of coffee fills my lungs.  I exhale a sigh, and give up a silent thanks for this day.

I tap my phone awake, but ignore the several messages and emails that have piled up over night.  I open my music, and play a little Jason Mraz.  Ethereal and sweet, his voice sings:

“Gooday, sunlight.  I’d like to say how truly bright you are.  You don’t know me, but I know you.  See, you’re my favourite star.  Fa-la-la-low you I will, so let’s get moving.  Who needs shelter when the morning’s coming?  Absolutely, there’s no one.  Who needs shelter from the sun?  Nothing, and no, not anyone.”

I’ve found my place in this world, but it’s fragile and easily broken.  To shatter it, it only takes one person saying the very first goodmorning of the day.  When that happens, it’s over.  My world exists between worlds, where the light of morning still hasn’t reached everyone.  Like a dream, I thrive while others sleep.  As the sun gets more and more overhead, it becomes less of a warming, gentle light, and more like a glaring spotlight, accusatory and harsh.  I feel so exposed.  The morning breaks, and suddenly, I’m on trial.  My existence is a crime in this world where now people are awake.  I’m convicted guilty of all charges.  I carry out my sentence, 20-hours-to-life, with the curtains drawn and the blinds closed.

But the day is so beautiful, I won’t let it get away from me.  I’ve planned my escape.  I’m breaking out of this place.  For today, I will also be a daydream.  And maybe, one day, my soul will have substance.  Maybe, one day, I will be allowed to exist here in this world of the awake. 

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