Open up my hand it's empty
1. Dream One: We are at a party. You're with a circle of people talking about something that I find boring. I suddenly remember being six years-old and bored by a playground game. I do the same thing I did then; I walk away. I go outside. I look up into the sky. There's an eclipse. I can't remember if it will burn my eyes to look but I look anyway. It's beautiful. I run back inside to tell you about it.
2. Dream Two: Someone in the subway has set themselves on fire. Everyone is screaming. It looks like the station right outside Lincoln Center. The 2 or the 3.
3. Dream Three: I am not me. I am someone else. A man at a gas station. He's gotten something on his blue shirt. He is rubbing the stain with a napkin. The part of my brain that's still me tries to tell them that it's best they leave the spot alone. They don't hear.
4. Dream Four: I am sitting at a table. Someone asks to see my ring. I show it to them. Somehow I have failed to notice that it's a large, chunky ring with Spiderman on it. "It's hideous!" I exclaim. They disagree, telling me that it's fine craftsmanship.
5. Dream Five: We are lakeside. I don't know where it is but I'm sitting on the grass and you are next to me, sleeping. I envy your sleep. It seems so blissfully empty. I take your hand, and you don't stir. I lie back on the gray plaid blanket I only own in dreams and look at the evening clouds as they drift lazily overhead.
When I wake up in the morning, our hands are still clasped together. And this song is playing in my head.
The Lavender Lake/Mancino (mp3)
Buy Manners Matter by Mancino.