Small Breaks of Light by Jeanette Gomes
Waking up from dreams is no easy decision. This takes years of practice. Young ones enjoy greeting the day. Adults know better. Adults have lived through many days and know they are essentially the same thing. Minor things happen each day with rare days where those things get resolved or simply stop. Noises exist in the background to keep time. Rhythms of planes overhead, traffic, and trains attest to the fact that people will always be moving no matter what time of night. Honestly people need to get much more rest. In dreams people can be Gods of their surreal domain.
Mornings are the death of the night. Poor death dies every morning screaming in agony as the big bright sun clears it way. Where darkness was there is now light. Street lamps do an okay job removing it. Yet no street lamp compares with the power of Mr. Golden Sun. Rocketing out of bodies happens all the time. Death tends to do that. Death gave up that boat on the River Styx a long time ago. This is the future. Death was promised jet packs. Death got them. Every streak in the sky is a soul descending to heaven or a mobile phone satellite being shot into the Earth’s atmosphere. Oftentimes it is the same thing.
Blind lovers are great lovers. They never know what they are going to get. Love cradles all sorts of things in its arms: love, hate, gas, Altoids boxes it shoplifted. Really it is hard to tell what love will bring. Cold blue hearts indicate that the heart needs love. Basically the cold blue hearts are similar to the Coors Light ‘Tap the Rockies’ can. Once cold blue the heart requires somebody to drink it, to get drunk off of watered down love until it is red once more. This is a part of growing up unloved then loved.
Every day machines give comfort to millions of people. Machines are rising up to hug people. Since humanity has evolved so much it needs machines to rely on, to tell them how to feel. Updates, statuses tell people, anonymous random people, exactly how another person feels. Without this broadcast how could humanity possibly know what it wants? Technology reminds people they are alone. Connecting with others through technology only reinforces this singular feeling of loneliness. That is technology’s blessing and curse.
Nightmares are meant to be defeated. After a nightmare has been defeated it goes back to be more finely tuned by the greatest subconscious professionals. This is a part of growing up: letting fears become more reasonable, better known, and more terrifying. By refusing to fear all fears mortality feels insulted. Mortality lingers over all fears, in the background or foreground. Death enjoys being included with the living at all times. Souls are homeless after death having nowhere to go but getting up or getting down.