the dangers of a dream
i have a strained relationship with the concept of 'forever'.
i was stuck in some kind of bind, hopelessly echoing the same tired phrases; "i'll be sick like this forever," "let's stay together forever," and "i wish times like these lasted forever." it's a cruel thing, isn't it? it makes me want to die. permanence both seduces and repels; in sickness, in health, in death, in love. impending loss, pounding, pounding, pounding and more pounding. do you want potential joy? do you want to kill what you love in the process? do you want to be god? do you want to be king? no power without a little noblesse oblige!
is eternity something we can grasp with our own two hands? the truth is, im terrified of it. eternity is a fragile thing, and just dreaming of it can be enough to shatter it to pieces. it's enough to make one consider not dreaming at all. and in some sense of insubordination, maybe childish disobedience with oneself, that we continue to want. not things that we can't have, but things that will make us forget about the emptiness of being destitute, even if it's for a short period of time.
you graze 'forever' with the tips of your fingers, and it turns to gold from your touch. what is it so afraid of? what good is a dream if it runs away from you? can a dream cure my incurable disease? can eternity relieve me of this pain? can it relieve me from this demon, ominously leering at me from the shadows, who has named himself father time? he knocks at my door, but he knows better than i that i don't let anyone in uninvited. i'd slam the door on satan himself, if given the chance. it's fun when you're not on the receiving end, isn't it?
i've danced through sixteen ballrooms in my life so far—it really has been sixteen—and now i'm here. it has all of you in it. it's my birthday and everyone remembered. all the hazy rainbow lights meander about the air. i believe i can hear, very faintly, charles gounod's faust in the background. what a beautiful opera it is. this is what dreams are made up of, you see; a stupor born of a dark thrumming that you frantically attempt to overlook. let's get drunk on ambrosia and try to ignore the blurring faces, and the overwhelming presence of merciless gods. ah, la jeunesse, les plaisirs!
and for a minute, it felt like i could make like thunder in the sky and break it all with a painful snap of my fingers. if time truly does fly, then i would consider clipping its wings. why do we always destroy what we love? it's painful to admit just how precious the world is, but is admitting to that so painful as to bring it to naught? i would give it all up to taste heaven. i don't want to think about that. i could destroy it all in the matter of minutes. i could destroy it all. i don't want to, but i very well could.
i guess i'm like faust in that regard. i would indeed sell my soul for eternity. but if this lasted forever, it would begin to feel artificial, wouldn't it? it's no different from keeping all my loved ones locked away somewhere hidden—and i never did understand people who find that appealing. instead of someplace like that, i'd much rather keep everyone in a place where they can be happy—all the while completely unthinking of my own happiness! a fairytale existence with all anyone could ever want! but i dare not dream about such a shallow joy. a dream is always the start of something dangerous, but lately it's all i've been wanting to do. let's just remain here a little while longer.
i'll promise to be careful, okay?