*Blink*

*Blink*

You stand in a field of yellow flowers, all minor suns. In their center, a small ring of blue, like a child's tear, lies nestled. A small wind ruffles their perfect symmetry, a momentary bending of their heads to a higher power, then all isagain still. You look around. All is still, all is silent. All is perfect.

You shade your eyes against the sun and the blue, the yellow below and the impossibility of the situation. A single step would crush dozens of these minor suns, all packed in and around each other. You take that step, and an aroma like sunday mornings in the park, a perfect blue sky and your first kiss fills your nostrils, and you are momentarily lifted. Walking, the aroma is now a constant companion, so much so that have to blink to keep this field of yellow/blue in sight. The sky is a blue wall below which is spread this infinite yellow tablecloth, pure and unblemished. So blue it hurts.You squint.

(How did you get here...how...)

You blink. You are standing in a desert, with sand blowing in your eyes. Your mouth. Your teeth. Your nostrils. You cough and cover your face and ears. Its in your hair. Under your nails. You stumble forward, hacking against the storm. Fall to your knees and try to breathe through the onslaught.

It takes a few seconds before you realise that you're not feeling anything but the wind. The sand passes through you, around you, untouching. You kneel there, not understanding. The wind howls, and you feel its loneliness and despair in your bones. It echoes in the back of your mind, reminding you of disappointments past, and the many more to come. Despair. A constant companion.

(What, where...the hell is going on...?)

You stand, and walk. You discern movement, images, figures in the haze. Frozen. No. They move, but only when you look away, and only in a speed discernable by one familiar.

(Familiar...with what...hold on, what...?)

They're dozens of them around you, and you then realize that its not a storm, but thousands, no, millions of overlapped images of figures, horses, soldiers, people, cars falling off of bridges, people dying, running, crying, falling, standing in shock, fear, curling up in pain, shaking...just the pure horror of human suffering poured out in visual form onto your eyeballs. You stand there in shock yourself...and just watch. It washes over you. Your very heart turns black within your chest, and you shudder with the realisation that this is you, this is what it means to be human. To suffer, live in pain, and then die.

(No....it can't...what...)

Blink.

You're back in the field of blue and yellow, and you fall forward to your knees, choking on the tears you did not know were coming. Your vision blurs, and you cry your heart out there in that beautiful, lonely oasis. You fumble forward, and that scent of cotton candy and soft touches in the hall, holding hands as you walk and dancing under hot lights with the one you desire/love/lust after fills you again, and you begin to laugh through your tears. You feel as if you are going insane. Unable to process emotions of such diametric difference all at once, your body executes the most useful feature it possesses. In the face of an overwhelming situation that it cannot immediately comprehend or process, the human body possesses the ability to turn itself off.

You faint.

When you wake up, you're standing on a beach. The water makes a quiet shh-shhhh as it peaks beneath your feet, then recedes back to the arms of its mother, the ocean. You are barefooted, and the water is warm on your toes. A gentle wind, smelling of salt and sugar cane tickles your nose, and somewhere in the distance you hear the gentle strains of relaxed revelry. You lift your head, and allow the calm and peace of the moment to suffuse your being. You breathe, happy to have woken from that...nightmare. In, out, in, out, the breaths come. Your heart slows (hm, what, no...there was something...no..forget it) as you return to your normal state of calm. You turn to walk back towards (where...wait, where was I going before...wait wait wait) when a voice says;

"But its never that easy, is it? Being human, I mean."

You whirl, disturbing the sand and the scene. Everything shimmers for a second, white white, then settles back to normal colour. Standing a few feet down the beach is a man, nondescript, small, inconsequential. White shirt, white pants, straw hat. Beach bum. Beer in hand, his back to you.

"Its never that easy, being anything in this world."

He looks out from under his hat at you, and you realise...no, it can't be....

Blink.


You wake up in bed, and there is no more sleep for you that night. In the back of your head, you can hear the soft whisper of the waves on the beach, and beneath them...the silent cries of all those trapped in the haze. The sunflowers evade your mind, even as you reach for them in a desperate attempt as SOME kind of solace from this crazy dream. There will be no more sleep for you this night. None at all. You have much to think about, and morning....? It is still far, far away.