Reverie

It begins on the cusp of a dream.
I am running from something, through an open field on a paisley carpet. I am not scared, I just know that I must run. I am in an empty hallway illuminated by incandescent lights on a sterile tile floor and I dissolve through to the floor below, my father and I watching an HBO TV show in a modest looking hotel room.
I wake up suddenly, in a daze, feeling for the alarm on the other side of the room. It's placed there to insure that I wake up fully as I stumble across the length of the room.
My conscious mind flashes on like a strobe and an image of her is instantly projected on to my eyelids, like a shot, nervous elation filling my stomach.
I snap out of the trance, realizing I must begin the day.
I place my keys by the cracked open window, change into my shorts, lace up my shoes, grab my iPod, and head out the door to the nearest treadmill.
Running is the middle ground between the daze of sleep and the surge of reality.
I am free to think childish selfish thoughts, unfiltered by my half-awake mind. My imagination is running rampant. I fantasize about short film ideas that I excitedly write down once the elapsed time hits 22:02.

As I shower, my mind is finally in its normal state. The disposition of the day has finally began to weigh down on me. I go through the mindless routine of getting ready.

The slam of the door behind me as I leave my room lets me know the day has begun.
Walking from class to class is a transitional period my mind takes full advantage of. Thoughts weave through my brain at blurred speeds. My body merely a vessel for this overbearing wave of rational and irrational thought.

Other times, my mind sits in silence.
The music flowing through my ears suppressing any sort of thought. My eyes are lenses, my mind a camera. I am a documentarian filming day to day life with hopes of capturing something beautiful and real.
I focus in on two people standing to the side a way ahead of me. They are dressed head to toe in black, the cuffs of their pants lay like abandoned parachutes on the cracked pavement. Slipknot on one shirt, black stripes overtaking white stripes on the other.
Before my mind passes some harsh undeserved judgment on both, one of them erupts in laughter.
And at that moment, I realize that we are one in the same person. I am reminded of their humanity by this outburst of human emotion. I couldn't help but smile to myself, sharing in her joy and realizing my foolishness.