There’s something about waking up that is both endearing and daunting to me. Sometimes the sun gives a mood of a satisfying and welcoming arm though that’s due to having a full night’s sleep without being shaken prematurely to walk back into the world of reality which, if done, is the daunting aspect. While I do feel rather rested at this moment and of my body’s own free will to awaken and finally rise up, the feelings of daintiness is rather absent… I have no clue where the hell I am. And I’m made more uncomfortable by the weird opened void in my head that’s missing some form of information.
I get up from the hard and grey concrete ground. From the feeling of my clothes, it feels like I’ve slept through some rain. I always found the sound of rain rather soothing. I look around me to see that I’m in the middle of an empty street with the emphasis and bolded font on the word empty. There’s not a person, pigeon, or a car. And there’s an absence of the sun to greet me from my full rested sleep, just the bright and cumbersome moonlight shining upon me while being supported by the light posts.
The fuck is my name again?
I hate wet socks. Having shoes filled with water is not something I find comfortable, but walking barefoot is something that tends to fill me with some glee. With no one to look at me with those weird stares of society, I remove my shoes and socks, drenched like they came from a shower in the Atlantic. I place my foot on the dry concrete. It is warm and gentle.
I turn. A pigeon…a dove. A completely white dove is flapping onto the ground some feet before me as if it were settling down for some food. A white dove that seems to be the most colorful object in this strange and austere place that I’ve mysteriously found myself lost in. I walk towards the bird. If this is a dream, maybe communication with a dove wouldn’t be quite so awkward. Besides… white doves are suppose to be nice, right?
A step forward and the dove walks up itself. I stop and so does the dove. What is this, mirror time? I stand there for a few and look around the area. If this isn’t a dream, maybe this is some awkward joke. Maybe a joke my friends and family are playing on me. If I know my friends and family, they would totally be into some strange thing like this. My wife… um… Jeanette… Marie… did I just forget my wife’s name? I shake my head and look back at the direction of the dove… but it’s black. And now a crow…? And I watch it spread its wings, caw, and release itself into the brick sky. The caw sends a shiver through my skin, giving me goose bumps. The first real sound I’ve heard since I woke up… no… not really, a voice I heard before.
What the fuck was her name?
I sit down on the sidewalk to gather my bearings. Something isn’t right. A dream within a dream? I look to my right of to see a sunrise coming, where I was walking towards earlier with the warm ground. It nearly cracks a smile on my face until I realize that while I’ve been sitting down here waiting for the sunrise to, well… rise, it’s stayed in this same spot for about thirty minutes… or even an hour. And I feel cold. Very cold. I turn to my right to see the other side shadowed in darkness. It’s something out of an old black and white horror movie. And while I’m sitting, I find myself getting closer to the damp cold, away from the motionless sunrise. And it’s there I seem to understand this great mystery.
The white dove returns. I don’t know from where, but it approaches me, more cautiously than it did before. Tears fall down my eyes as the white dove finally reaches me. It flaps up into the air as I open my arms to invite it in. I get up from the sidewalk and begin to walk towards the shadows. The motionless sunrise is no place for me. The shadows is my welcome red carpet. And I remember what it was that I done and had forgotten. Her name was Scarlet. And she was beautiful. She was peace and harmony. And I sent her away to the sun.
I’ve woken up. And to a daunting rest I walk.