To Die Dreaming (Morir Soñando)

Hola Everybody,
I wrote the following a while back. It’s part of an unfinished short story that tracks the travels of two lovers. On another note, Morir Soñando is also a Dominican refreshment. In any case, I have a funny relationship to my dreams (none of which I ever remember) and I can say I write while dreaming…

Morir Soñando

08-11-16_ To Die Dreaming

Dreaming men are haunted men.
— Stephen Vincent Benet

 

… The thought of her beauty awakens me sometimes, from the middle of dreams I can’t remember. It’s not the image of her face, the softness of her skin, but just the sudden awareness of her total beauty — that first strike before any of the details become clear — that jolts me awake and leaves me longing on the broken shoals of my bed.

For a brief moment, I’m upset she’s not here with me, but the anger gradually subsides into longing, and I stand and pace, haunting the darkness of my room, thinking of possibilities. Gradually, I come to the awareness that there’s no reason for anger, only choices. I ponder all this for what seems like hours and it’s the thought of her beauty that makes me lie back on my bed, weighing me down so that I plummet through the thin fabric of wake and sleep and drown in the middle of dreams I don’t remember…

* * *

My name is Eddie and I’m in recovery from civilization…

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s