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, August 3

Invisible Number (untitled #2)

Sa entered a room he had been in before. In a house where he had visited in the winter.

It was no longer winter. Sa was here again. The wooden door he locked behind. The light he switched off.

The walls looked at him. Sa was much different last time he was here.

Sa was reminded of another house. It was always dark, even during the day. The paint was faded, the floor didn't creak. There was silence. It was entering a different world.

Everything was bigger. He stood upon the tables to peer over the the couch.

Sa was inside a painting. He looked at himself moving and watching, frozen and still, always looking himself in the eyes. Sa was captured in a photographic, violently and graphically.

He returned his gaze to the curtain. Long, maroon and heavy, it emitted light. It wiped away tears, it shaded the world from this room, from the pictures Sa was in, from his eyes seeing the outside.

He was reminded of a pillow, one that didn't fit his neck anymore. One that had hardened, whose cover was ratty and holed. His favorite pillow, it smelled like winter, like snoozing, like an alarm clock, like breakfast. Like stretching and rubbing eyes.

Sa would walk backwards up the stairs in this house when he got scared. He didn't want to leave the front door unseen. There were spectres that followed him whenever his attention made an exit. WHenever he was affected by fear, he couldn't think. He would then walk backwards trusting the dark hallways more than the entranceway.

Sa invented a country upstairs. In this world, when the light turned off, and his head hit the pillow, and his feet tucked under, he entered another world. He would become a prisoner, or a person in the jungle sleeping in the canopy, or he was in a cave, or underwater in a submergeable bedroom. Somewhere else, another planet, another environment.

He existed in these placed. His imagination travelled farther than his body.

Invisible Number (untitled #1)

Atee went to the temple. This is where she prayed for clarity and guidance.

She looked for a pleasant spot to kneel.

Atee was affected by everything she saw. And in the temple, she felt whole. No matter what mistakes she had made or regrets she had, all was forgiven. Here, she was renewed.

And so, Atee made a mobile temple. She carried it with her everywhere she went. It brought her peace.

She was renewed every moment. A rejuvenation with every breath. Broken with the past and future. Atee was floating and without time, a happening to her surroundings.

Atee was an experience to her environments and her environment to itself. A game of everything believing itself to be unaffected. But Atee was a mirage, a feeling, a memory and desire to the world around her. SHe was like the rain cloud that came and went, that could wet the dry ground, shower the rolling, waving ocean and flood the mucky valleys.

Atee was an unseen spectre. She faded in and out of reality based on whose attention noticed her. She was a constellation of profundities and trivialities. She was enormously radiant and burning with appeal yet also, dimly irreducible and undefined.

Atee was a shadow and a white canvas. She was a foggy mirror, a crushed sandcastle, a melted snowman, a cloudless sky. Atee was in some cases here and in some cases not.

Her memory reached out and touched you. At times, she was  manifested you from a past life.

She was alone even while together and fulfilled even while wanting. Atee was, at times, with the sun during the evening.

She was out of place and unaligned. Like a lost diary, she was personal yet unrelated.

Unrelated like ink on a chalkboard. Like a book left in the rain. THe words are still there, the message is still the same.

To some, Atee seemed like a book left in the rain.

Atee was like a bird that learned to swim underwater. Feathers and all.

Atee would read after extinguishing her candle. She would unread before waking up. Atee channelled her future lives to speak to her. She listened without hearing and responded with thinking.

Atee wrapped herself in a newspaper colored blanket and fell asleep beneath the stars with Sa. She painted the grass and trees with new colors. She dyed the lakes and rivers. She lived her creativity out loud.

There was once a time when Sa and Atee were awoken. Neither of them could identify why.

World of Sleeping in the Meadows: Dreaming Room

Sa did not have a dreaming room. The world was his dreaming room.

Tip-toeing across the stones near the water, balancing on one slipper, moss-covered stone, he would be dreaming.

His body was here and his eyes were here, but his grew large and he vacated the world.

Or, as he swam in the ocean, floating on his back, enjoying the occasional spray of water that stung his eyes, he would begin dreaming.

His dreams were activated by many things, almost everything.

Staring at a painting, he became immersed with it, again vacating this world.

It was a beautiful morning, the greatest time of day. Sa had been awakening in a lovely mood, his body was nimble and his mind was free of agitation.

The sky was up above, right where it should be. A frog discovered a puddle on the sidewalk.

Sa really loved this place. He loved how the dirt formed into a solid conglomerate when he mashed it between his hands. He loved how the sand squeeked beneath his toes. He loved how nobody was there to record the sunset, to record the waves, to record the whimsical, lovely details of life.

Sa took a walk. It would be the first and last time he ever walked this way. But, in the moment he was blind to its significance.

He walked by himself, quite at ease and quite content. He was thinking passively of Atee, appreciating and acknowledging his memories with her.

The moon was hanging in the sky in a very bleak and ordinary fashion. The clouds were breaking and shifting in an equally unpuzzling and typical way.

The wind too was unspectacular.

But there was a new feeling inside of Sa. Something had arisen that was surely the result of a cumulative series of past events. But to Sa, he barely noticed anything. This new feeling seemed to be a quite typical one and one which he could intellectual trace back to a number of theoretical causes.

Therefor, Sa continued his casual pace without much concern. However, in time, as Sa's mind wandered off into other places, the feeling stayed. When his mind finally came back, he was a bit amazed. Typically, feelings such as this have shorter lifespans.

He began to value this occurrence. He felt thankful because he quite liked the feeling. It was a mixture of freedom and fortune. He was a little fearless, a little ambitious and a little playful. He was curious too.

He began to fear, at the same time, that this feeling would soon pass. Now, he wanted to hold onto it. He needed it to stay.

He stressed that it would escape his grasp. What if never felt this way again?

In trying to hold onto it, Sa risked reversing the very conditions that led its arising. Luckily, Sa was able to perceive this despite fear-filled anxiety.

Once he realized this, he realized and settled into this new joy. It brought confidence and conviction to him. It made him want to share with the world, want to smile and laugh and hug everybody. It made Sa sleep even more beautifully that night.