Blurred.

I walked out of class feeling drained. I find it difficult to explain what I mean, but I felt woozy and clouded and, I guess, slightly out of touch with reality. I plugged my headphones in as soon as I left and cranked my music up so I could get my head back. I took a few drags of my cigarette and from what I can remember; everything that once lingered began to disappear behind a wall of sound.

I turned up in my room. The curtain was drawn and shadows from the street darted across the walls. I peeled off a few layers of clothing, slowly sank into my bed and watched the hypnotic figures dance me to sleep. In my dreams there were things rushing about a desolate landscape, the sky tumbling down in the background like some apocalyptic bomb. Visceral screams shook the world around me as I clutched my head. My fingers felt as if they were soaking in warm water. I was half right.

A cloudy, transparent liquid fell to my hands and within it, swirling and coiling about, were people. And these people fused with images and disappeared, joyously mixing and uniting, absent from the horrors that had unfolded around them.

I looked up and a man had reached out his hand. I don’t know how but I knew he held promises of new shores. I reached out. When I touched his hand, we became one.

What strange scenarios we imagine when we sleep.