Anomalies of my Dreams
By Chip Marks
I've know they were there since I was a child.
From those lazy afternoons when we could not go out and play because of
inclement weather...
though rain or snow or those winds that I could discern dog like voices in never
scared me,
in fact it was my favorite weather, far from inclement.
But anyways, I would sit by the window sill and watch the beads of water form
and slide down the glass as if they were running for home, or a place to hide.
The wind pushing through the old window sill and invading the warm cozy feeling
that my mother insisted we must have to complete her fantasy of home and family.
To me the sounds and the cold rain were portals to places mysterious and
foreboding, quite perfect in my opinion.
A cold howl or a crack of thunder snapped me into a dream that somehow felt much
more like home then my mother's dreamverse could ever be.
I would sit curled closely to those portals and chase the dust particles
on my eyelids until I slipped into a dream or maybe into reality.
The world I lived in was so mundane and lackluster, no monsters, no evils, no
heroes or slayers.
It all seemed more like a dream then the moment I would feel myself falling off
a cliff through clouds and flashes of light.
Rushing towards worlds I knew existed underneath the veneer of security my
mother so desperately tried to maintain for her children.
As she slowly slipped towards insanity and eventual suicide I felt these other
worlds closer and closer.
The day I went to visit her and saw the sores on her wrists from the belts
holding her down I knew I could never go back to her arms.
I also know I was more alone then I ever could imagine.
I liked the best of both worlds, but as they closed her box and I saw the dark
sky writing spelling the end of all I knew,
I felt the rushing images of trees; you know the ones when you are riding in a
fast car on a dark night towards your bitter end.
I believe that was the time I said goodbye to my family and friends and was
greeted quite coldly by the night.