Possessing her Sleep

Oct 07, 2020, 03:19 AM
“I know that you are leaning toward the light.” She interrupts shamelessly. “But I’m afraid I cannot let you follow it. The sun has changed. Your sun is manmade Juni. Are you scared yet? I know you’ve been paying attention. I know her memory has been important to you. But it isn’t necessary anymore. I hold all of her in one moment against every electrical current running through your skin. When I tell you to stay asleep, that is where you must begin. These aren’t even hints baby boy. I’m setting the whole canvas before you, painting the way, and leading you in. This isn’t child’s play. This is being taken. Listen. Do you want me to take you or not? You are so bold, to speak of fearlessness; but what is that black tar stuck in the forefront of your right thigh? If it isn’t fear, than explain this darkness to me. I need to know every ounce of your physical existence on this plane intimately if my plan has any decent shot at outrunning the terror inside of you. Heal me Juniper, bones of my childish temper, and I will free you. I will take you with me when I must go. This time, I wont leave you behind. Take my hand. Lock your sticky fingers between mine. Lets walk from this dark room for the last time.”
            “Tell me that you will open your eyes again.” I’m sobbing by her side. She’s told me all of this in dreaming. I’m shaking her, but she wont wake up. I’m screaming, but no words are reaching the space she is in. She is peaceful. Her tiny lips are slightly parted and pouty. Drool is dripping down the cheek facing me. I stop fighting. I sense the fear and put pressure on it. I give it time. I give it what is left of the moon. “Let her speak,” slips out of her sleep. Her body begins slipping off the bed. I grab her right shin just before her head hits the ground. “Jade, please!” I’m whining now. No one in their right mind would follow a bratty baby like me. But I don’t need to be seen. Don’t you see? This is how I am able to slip from dream to dream the way that I do. This is how I speak. A complete disregard for Memory or Truth: complete in time and time alone. Never reaching out for anything that hasn’t been created by me. Never needing anything but her body. To me, this is what holding a pen means. A complete and total surrender: letting go. I let go and watch her lay suspended. She didn’t need my gripping fear. She needed complete passivity. Total possession. 
            “I take what is mine.” 
She whispers in the space between her body and mine. “There isn’t space in time. I don’t have time to explain. You belong to me.” Her face falls into my trembling thighs. “I need to sleep today.” She begs, rubbing her eyes, rolling her cheeks over my shins. I’m folding forward. I’m using my body as a human shield. I want to keep her from any harm, peacefully sleepy for eternity. I’m weeping aloud furiously. Because I know, there is nothing to save. I saw what was coming. I knew that she had my sight. Last night I saw her witness everything. I couldn’t stay to watch her die. Turns out, I’m as bad with goodbyes as she is. 
            “You can sleep sweet boy. As long as you hold me when you cry. I am demanding. You are everything I need. You mustn’t be afraid of me. There are ways I must hide. But it is for your own good. This place is sickening. We are in danger here. Be calm. Be still. Be gentle. Be light. You’ve held too much of this darkness for far too long. Let them play in the filth they’re building around you. Don’t pay attention to what you’ve been taught to see. See through the layers of smoke. See a sky, stolen right out under you. Pick up your toes, one by one, and find the same sky dancing in-between them. This isn’t rain falling down the back of your throat. This is what remains of the bodies they’ve been burning to fuel the overwhelming majorities’ approval for the sky’s replacement. Aren’t you curious as to what it’s made of exactly, if it’s raining your brother’s blood? Aren’t you worried you might grow to like the taste? If they call you beautiful when you lose control and drench yourself in it, will you develop a desire to wear it? How do feel about permanence? How do you feel about stagnation? How do you feel about never seeing the sun again? How do you feel about your own reflection? Be as bright as you possible can be little Juniper. My love is resting in the palms of your beating hands. It’s a nice rhythm, isn’t it, the entire sun falling just to stand by your side? Let this fire rage under your skin. Rest. This is only the beginning. Tomorrow we start all over again, from the very beginning. Tomorrow you will speak in another tongue, and this one will hold no definition for her goodbyes. The sun cannot die. It can only be shifted. Take my hand, I’ll show you a dimension where I am grounded and you are on our back porch, staring at a frozen river, screaming my name. When I leave everything in the kitchen to burn, thinking you must be dying with the blood curdling screams calling out my name, I will be livid to witness this scene. It’s my turn to tell you a story, story boy. The trees are white. Your boots are translucent. There’s a black pup at our feet. You’ve stopped yelling. You seem completely at peace; so stoic that it hurts to look at you too long. Something begins burning in my guts. I’m dreaming. I must be dreaming. I’m only thinking these things. Have I built this scene? Was I the one screaming? Was I trying to wake up? I am full of your fire! I am reflecting everything. All I see is you. There is nothing else to this scene. You and I are alone in this room.”