Disregard what I said about sleep. It was a lie. Of course I did not mean to lie to you, I just forgot what a dangerous place ones mind is when you are no longer up and feeling.

Of course I have good dreams, everyone has to, what else would we go to sleep for, the pure feeling of exhaustion? To have a good dream is like to win a battle over yourself. To see something you created for yourself, things from the day you picked up that seemed meaningless, but some how become intriguing. It is hard to argue that fact that everyone dreams, but it is hard to say that most of us forget.

I use to remember all my dreams. The dreams when I was five, and stole a car and drove It out of sight the dreams of me running away and becoming a famous person or what ever. I miss those. Now I dream of black.
Not even the color.
It is just simply black.

I do not mind it, I do not miss the benefits of dreaming.

But what is this? Oh… It’s a color, and it is becoming a sphere of silent beauty. Oh, color. I have missed color; I have missed the warmth of red. And it is becoming bigger, this sphere of beauty and silence, and it is engulfing me. And soon enough, my feet leave the solid ground, and I became light. And I smile, and I mean it.

The color brings me out.

And makes me talk. And I talk, and I do not mind. Words treat themselves to the sweet air this sphere is producing, there is not need for the words to stop, as long as my mouth is open, the words will keep coming out on a clothes line. And I will not stop it.

Soon, music is there. Lovely music, music that you only hear when you listen between the notes and the solemn bass. The song, in a song, which no one would ever notice unless they were in the sphere.

It is pulling me higher into Ozone to be exact. I will not stop, and I am not disintegrating at the atmosphere, in fact, I am not feeling anything but the colors that swallowed me back on earth.

I wave

And I pray no one will miss me too much.

And shortly I wake up… my alarm clock is screaming.