Going in Blind

Dream Journal 05-05-16 and (amazingly) a response to the Daily Post’s Daily Prompt: Beach

Once again, this was one of those dreams in which I know I am dreaming right from the get go but, here, I could not change the world to suit my will.

My eyes were closed but I could feel my body doing something. There were tantalising aromas floating in the air. There was intense heat before me but I could feel the cool air-conditioned breeze press against the sweat at the back oof my neck. I forced my eyes open so that I could understand the motions that my body performed and so that I could understand where I was. They refused to open.

Its actually quite incredible, how much one can pick up from the rest of the senses, being dream-blind was absolutely fascinating. It didn’t take me much longer to work out that the contrasting temperatures and aromas meant that I was not just in the vicinity of a great chef but that I was actually the one cooking the very food that I craved to devour! I got curious, if that was really my body then I should be able to lay seeds, ideas that would grow if watered adequately. I should be able to manipulate myself. I started off small. “Hey, big guy. Don’t you wanna check if it is seasoned well enough?” Sure enough, it worked. And it tasted superb. I could feel both my knees and my body’s knees quiver as we went in for a second spoon, just to ‘reconfirm’ the taste. I tried with a few other seeds. Getting more and more excited as each one worked.

“You should probably check the recipe. Make sure you haven’t forgotten anything.”

“Don’t you think you should straighten your beret?”

“Why don’t you turn the fan on higher?”

“Your zipper’s down.”

“Laces’ undone.”

“Open your eyes!”

It was a long shot. I had hoped that it would work but I was not surprised that it didn’t. I could feel the stress levels in my body starting to dip. The dish was almost done. I tried to sample again, it worked. Tasted even better than the first time. It was salty and sweet. Crunchy and not too chewy. But more than that, I couldn’t pin down what ingredients I had used. What style of dish was it? What was the main ingredient? Had I tasted that yet? Damnit, if only I could see!

I was the only person in the kitchen. I was the chef, the waiter and the manager of that place. I had finished preparing the meal, now it was time to plate and then serve. I felt around for the door handle, twisted it open and pushed the creaky front door open. As I stepped out of the doorway a gust of salty air assaulted my nostrils and I could feel hot fine grains of sand wriggling in between my toes. The incessant roar of the waves kissing the shore replaced the mechanical hum of an air cooler way past it’s best before date. My body steeled itself for combat and glided across the heated sands, it was nervous and I didn’t yet know why. Was the recipient of my food that harsh a critic? Heck, I loved it and if I were in control of my own body, that dish would not have made it to the plate let alone to this person’s mouth. I wanted to see this person so I tried again. “Open your eyes for me, I can help you. Two minds work better than one, surely it doesn’t matter if both of them are the same?”

Initially, I could not see due to lack of light, now I was drowning in it. The harsh yellow rays filled me with the warmth of a lover’s touch but at the same time, filled my body with needles and injected me with some kind of toxin that made my blood blaze up in fury. I wished I hadn’t asked for my eyes to be open, because by the time that I had regained control of my micro-self. My macro-self was on the verge of breaking out into a flood of tears. The person who was eating my blood, sweat and tears (figuratively here, not literally this time. Gosh that was a scary dream) had packed up and left. I could tell they weren’t coming back anytime soon. Was my food that bad or was it just seeing my face?

As I attempted to scrape the sand off of my overturned food, I looked up at the person who thought they retained the right to soil my labour. If the food had hurt me enough to make me quiver, then I can not even begin to describe to you how I felt when I saw those gold-tinted chocolate curls, bouncing away from me yet again. Torn, broken, trampled and left for dead,  I turned towards the most determined lover I knew. No matter how many times the shore reject the waves, he would always come back and part with the satisfaction of but a single kiss. I, on the other hand, spent all my energy in the chase, yet it was still not enough. I so desperately wanted my wife back.

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