This is the home of Sleeping in the Meadows.

"Surreal and poetic reflections on life and imagination... told in 3rd person through the dreams and adventures of two beings, Sa and Atee." 

Sunday, November 16

Number Sixty Seven

Sa would roam and welcome the new world. Welcome the friends, the smiles, the songs and the tranquility.

He could still close one eye in a dream and feel out of place. He was almost somewhere he was not, looking out of one eye.

He wanted to be at a beach and he wanted to be a guest to a festival. And he was, just by the dream. And just by the dream, he was feeling the rain trickle. And just by the dream, he could smile with the rest of his new friends with the lovely rainbow connecting them to Heaven.

Sa knew that outside his dream, the rainbow was still spreading beauty. And outside the dream, time would still pause when it was asked to. When two eyes connected for the first time, time would pause. And when they connected for the last time, time would pause and the tears would stop for just a moment.

Sometimes when the world looked too small, space would reveal another secret. Just so that nobody would have to fear discovering it all. So that they could absorb the nightscape and be touched by a star.

And maybe the star would drop into their pockets and maybe a light would brighten up their life. And maybe a light could be the one to show them what's on the inside.

Maybe when space was too small, living beings would be granted tools to make their own world. Maybe it would be enough for them to cooperate and fulfill their dreams.

Dreams are just arriving during sleep, someday they will arrive during clear wakefulness. Maybe worlds will bump into each other, maybe out last goodbye is just until a dream reunites us. And when mirrors can reflect the future, our memories will recall our true selves.

Mistakes we regret, who knows, life is blind. Heaven is blind. To be blind is to be one with grace, and to walk with divinity and to be a medium for love to connect us to others.

It isn't our eyes which brought us into the world, it isn't by our eyes that we make friends and it isn't because of our eyes that we aren't content with misery. It isn't our eyes that make us dream or lets us feel warm around people we trust. It wasn't the blind who peered inside themselves preaching it was empty. It wasn't the blind who argued light doesn't exist.

Its the blind that can laugh without inhibitions, who can open a closed heart or a calm the distressed.

When Heaven cries, it isn't crying because it lost something, it cries because their are too many tears, it can't keep them forever. It wouldn't leave room for the angels.

And if you ever see an angel cry, it is crying because it knows your own sorrow.

Sa was told to never be too busy for love. He learned that meant he could never be too busy for his family and, later he knew to include his true friends. He learned that meant acting with goodness and compassion. He learned that meant to never neglect the flowers and petals in his life. He knew that meant those few special times when his imagination was turned towards the light. He knew that he couldn't be too busy for an angel. And he learned that there was no room for any business.

And so Sa was always a receiving end when the clouds were giving. And he was always a giver when the mountains shrunk and the clouds receded.

Sa didn't want to see through things. He wanted to imagine multidimensional people. He could forsee immeasurable beings.

He could feel hinself dragged sluggishly by a movement more massive than all his dreams. He could see it in other people. Some were left behind, cleaning their glasses and tying their shoes. He called but they had earmuffs to cover their ears. He looked and waved, desperately. He was hurt to leave them.

He didn't know where he was going. It was hard to blindly trust, especially when so many were staying. They didn't even seem to notice his departue. He wanted to be a child again. He wanted to be unchanging, he wanted everything to sort out on its own. He wanted to be full of wonder with eyes so large a fish could sink into one. What a miracle it was that he was alive. And what a mariacle he could be in the middle of such maginificient endeavours. And where does his destiny lead him, and nobody could tell him.

He could just look from left to right and suddenly he was within another memory. Tender and quiet, relaxed and suspiciously comfortable. Maybe he belonged there. It was always a temptation to move back to the past. It was wise to live today. If he never lived today, he wouldnt have any memories.

And if he had a crystal ball, he would know that his dreams were soon to come true. Much sooner than he could anticipate. If only he knew his fate, he would question exactly what his dreams were. He would be wise to dream of lasting fulfillment, eternal peace and love and contentment.

It was simple enough sometimes. He always reflected on times when, if he had the discipline and wisdom, he would have remained simple. We have only one brain for a reason, to remember that things are meant to be simple. We would be born with many brains if our lives were meant to be so complicated and troublesome.

Sa could jump off a building, but that's not what he wanted for his life. But, what did he want? He wanted to dream and he wanted to spend his life with her. Where had she gone? Sometimes she was there when he dreamed and when he came back to reality she was gone. He wanted to meet her and be happy and dream a life of their own, everlasting and creative beyond imagination.

Funny how often his soul would move out of the scene. And when it was back, he knew. And when his soul was around, he could warm up the whole room. And he could look for her in every place. His soul kept his head straight and heart strong, and his eyes open. His soul was the glue of goodness that kept his whole being pursuing the truth.

And at times he could forget his soul, but just by chance it would be recalled to the surface.

And it was still a secret to him how to rewind time. He was yet to be sipping hot chocolate for the first time, again. He was yet to see the sun for the first time, again.
However, he was yet to see her for the first time.
He was yet to be in love with her, for the first time.
He was yet to dream upon the experience and he was yet to see Heaven.
He was yet to see Heaven.

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