Brand New Day

I read a poem about coffee chasing your dreams away yesterday evening. I didn’t take any caffeine last night but something was keeping me up. I lay there for hours, listening to my heart beating. Thinking about all the twists and turns my life has taken over the last two years. Trying to control my heartbeat. Each time I drifted I would involuntarily jolt awake…My heart would be beating faster and I’d slow it by breathing slowly, deeply.
Dust clouds of protracted thoughts swept through my mind, separating and settling on the surface of other thoughts.
What happens after I die? The beat in my ear now will one day stop, when will that be? Ben died 18 months ago at 23 years of age, that’s two years I’ve got on him, counting the six months I had in the first place. And we used to score the same on everything, school, college, uni, everything. Remember the day he left us and Nick took me to that pub and we sat outside with our beers and behind me, inexplicably, was the word ‘Ben’ painted on the white washed wall in red, yellow and blue with a red and yellow flower on the end. Surreal. Like a dream. Chaos theory.

Maybe that’s what happens when you go – things get more and more dreamlike and surreal until you lose yourself. That’s probably right. But it’s the speed in which it can occur that is terrifying. I must keep a grip on reality, it’s the only way to keep on.

Flirt with the unreal – but do not become it. Live in the front of the brain, and keep the back nice and tidy. The present is where life is. Yeah.

I turned in my bed once more, sighed, and feeling a rising urge to move forwards, went to the kitchen and poured a glass of water in the dark, trying not to see things out of the window, but expecting to at any moment.
Eileen laid in the same position as when I left, not making a sound. I slipped back into the covers, leaving one leg and arm out.
Then why so many unanswered questions in the present? What is the meaning behind of all of this? A line is never straight, nor is a circle ever perfectly circular, it’s something we all should deal with.
The front of the head is a small place to live, but there is much less to worry about in there. The back is too disorganised, and too frenetic for logical thinking at this hour.

Memories flashing by.

My primary school headmaster announcing to the dinner hall that one of the boys in my year had turned 10 and saying to him “You’ll be in double figures for the rest of your life now, unless you live to be 100!”
Stars wheeling,
Impossible to sleep with all of that happening.
Think practical. Focus on the immediate. Discern between real and unreal and maybe you can get some sleep.

Ignore this brain war, it will never end. Both sides fell out with the other long ago and compete for dominance. The adrenal gland sits in the middle, keeping me awake and fuelling the feud between them.
I feel the back slowly winning.
What will happen when one side holds total sway? The cerebral cortex devours the subconscious mind, making me an all seeing and knowing, super sentient, ultra sapient being. Or maybe just the worlds greatest flat-pack furniture builder. The back of the head swallows the front and renders me a gibbering wreck. Total loss of communication with the outside world, the eyes tell the mind what it wants to see…Maybe that is death

A light breeze makes the blinds lightly tap against the window, I feel it stroke my arm and leg.

And then I’m lost. I am woken by the sounds of a lawn mower outside and think of summer and green things. I walk downstairs; it’s a brand new day.

Journal Comments