Your support makes Blue Moon possible (Patreon)
Cultivating Chaos
- Thread starter Chaos.
- Start date
OP
OP
Chaos.
Who doesn’t love a bit of chaos?
- Joined
- Jun 2, 2021
Hollowing out the space between my ribs.
A haunting notion of what should have been….
This cage made of bone housing only an empty soul.
The hours spent staring into the dark,
the silence only echoing the lack of a beating heart …
I don’t know what’s worse, wanting to love you back…
…or not being capable of the act.
A haunting notion of what should have been….
This cage made of bone housing only an empty soul.
The hours spent staring into the dark,
the silence only echoing the lack of a beating heart …
I don’t know what’s worse, wanting to love you back…
…or not being capable of the act.
The Dream
OP
OP
Chaos.
Who doesn’t love a bit of chaos?
- Joined
- Jun 2, 2021
For as long as I can remember I have been lucid dreaming, coming and going depending on how strongly I am practicing my spiritual beliefs, and how open I am being with my highest self. As of late, I feel as though I have been getting glimpses of a past life in the form of a dream... but it doesn't feel like a dream, everything about it feels like home. Everything down to the fibers of the sheets on the bed have a familiarity to them.
Sometimes it's hard to tell if I am awake... if any of this is real... and sometimes it's like watching a reflection of myself, like hearing whispers of a story you'd long forgotten. It always seems to start the same, I'm standing in the middle of a room I've never seen before... yet, it feels like I have been here. The dark oak of the hard wood floors like odd against the pristine white walls, but something about this feels outdated or aged. The linen curtains do little to prevent the warm sun from cascading across the room. But it's not me standing in the middle of the room, it's her. Am I her? Who is she? She looks like me in build and facial structure, but my perfect blonde hair is instead hues of warm reds and oranges almost glowing against her pale skin. My familiar greens eyes aren't looking back at me, they've been replaced by an icy ocean of blue.
But I know her...
I can feel it in my heart of hearts. She can't see me. She won't answer any of my questions, and as if I'm just a faint hiccup in her timeline everything jumps. Glimpses of her day fast forward through my mind. The color of her sheets as she wakes up (beige again the dark grey wool throw blanket), the texture of her dress (velvet, emerald in color, details of gold), a meal shared with who I assume to be her family, a glance out the window as a field of grass shifting in the wind...
I want to be there. I want to be running through the tall grass. I want to end up on the cliffs over looking the ocean and listening to the waves crashing against the shore like below. But she's not alone... I can't seem him, I'm not even sure if it is a him... but she feels warm, like my soul is catching the warmth of her soul, the happiness and bliss she's feeling.
and in a split second, as if I blinked and missed it all, the sky is fading to black. The are around us is crispy and cool, biting against our skin as it blows with rage... She's alone... and she despair is so strong I am almost taste it, like bile slipping up the back of your throat, begging to be released. What happened to him? Did he leave her? Did he pass away?
Sometimes it's hard to tell if I am awake... if any of this is real... and sometimes it's like watching a reflection of myself, like hearing whispers of a story you'd long forgotten. It always seems to start the same, I'm standing in the middle of a room I've never seen before... yet, it feels like I have been here. The dark oak of the hard wood floors like odd against the pristine white walls, but something about this feels outdated or aged. The linen curtains do little to prevent the warm sun from cascading across the room. But it's not me standing in the middle of the room, it's her. Am I her? Who is she? She looks like me in build and facial structure, but my perfect blonde hair is instead hues of warm reds and oranges almost glowing against her pale skin. My familiar greens eyes aren't looking back at me, they've been replaced by an icy ocean of blue.
But I know her...
I can feel it in my heart of hearts. She can't see me. She won't answer any of my questions, and as if I'm just a faint hiccup in her timeline everything jumps. Glimpses of her day fast forward through my mind. The color of her sheets as she wakes up (beige again the dark grey wool throw blanket), the texture of her dress (velvet, emerald in color, details of gold), a meal shared with who I assume to be her family, a glance out the window as a field of grass shifting in the wind...
I want to be there. I want to be running through the tall grass. I want to end up on the cliffs over looking the ocean and listening to the waves crashing against the shore like below. But she's not alone... I can't seem him, I'm not even sure if it is a him... but she feels warm, like my soul is catching the warmth of her soul, the happiness and bliss she's feeling.
and in a split second, as if I blinked and missed it all, the sky is fading to black. The are around us is crispy and cool, biting against our skin as it blows with rage... She's alone... and she despair is so strong I am almost taste it, like bile slipping up the back of your throat, begging to be released. What happened to him? Did he leave her? Did he pass away?