Struggle for rest

         I am trying to rest but they still continue to mumble outside my bedroom door. So much for the courtesy of your loved ones. With my eyes firmly shut I try to conjure up images in my head that would be pleasant prior to my sleep. There is a cool breeze that runs over me in this darkness as I attempt to let go of my imagination. There are sweet smells of spring flowers, but the air is musty, thick and stale. Yet memories do creep in, subtle and vague at first. But like the dawn, the light eventually appears and shapes and figures become clear.

          As far a reverie as my mind allowed was my 5^th birthday. I can taste the airy flavor of the fresh baked cake as it lingers in the back of my mouth. I  can just make out my name in blue icing sketched on white frosting. ‘Make a wish and blow out the candles’ someone says. I do not remember what I was I had wished for.  I do know what it was I should have wished for. The light on the candles sputter from my breath and eventually extinguish, leaving only a trace of smoke. Only my dreams can replace the void left by the flames.  I can faintly hear the clapping of the tiny hands with the cheering and smiles of the children. The smell of sulfur and cake. Laughter and fun. Yet, I was elsewhere. Lost in a sea of thought that I was unable to put into words or actions. Like being caught in quicksand, only my head forever held above the sand, making it possible for me to breathe. I know that I was alive, but not how it felt to live. Why all of this deep thought at such an early age?  Who were all these people I called my ‘friends’?  These relatives I did not know. If it wasn’t for my mother and father telling me otherwise, those ‘relatives’ were just strangers to me. This ambiguity at such an incessant age. Questions I asked myself, why? The celebration, as it were for a moment where they all seem to gather and hold me in high regard. But why only in celebration did we all gather?  Is it merely because, coincidentally on this date, 5 years earlier, I was born? I do remember pondering these very thoughts. Even now, while I lay in bed, unable to rest while the muttering outside my door continues. My family seems to not have the common decency to keep the volume of their particular music (organ fugues it seems, Chopin?) at a level in which does not disturb others. It plays through the hollow halls preventing me from my well needed rest. Still, I lay here. Trying to organize my thoughts. But much like a roulette wheel, my mind spins and then randomly stops at a memory I had at age 12.

          Staring out passed the lake I sit with her I notice the swans slowly swimming by, caught in their own existence. I can see the leaves on the trees as they begin to turn orange and slowly begin to loosen their grip from the brittle branches. She reaches for my hand. I am unsure of how to react. What is the proper way to cradle her hand? My heart begins to race and sweat starts to stir as the fear of rejection consumes me. With racing thoughts, I am unable to make clear of how to proceed.  Why does this girl care for me to hold her? What could she be thinking in her simple, yet undeveloped mind? Without the ability to put my thoughts in order, I reach and attempt to kiss her and she unintentionally (and quite awkwardly) bites my lip and thrusts her slimy tongue down my throat.  By what means could this be considered as excitement? Was this love? I understand the naiveté of my adolescent brain, but with the lack of any true role model of sorts that precedes this awkward moment in my mind’s mind. What is love, I thought as she ran away to play with her friends. I was not familiar yet with this sort of love. I was left alone again with my thoughts. So suddenly she left as I remained quiet- much like my father when my mother walked out the door. I hadn’t even noticed the rain as it fell. I was lost again to my oblivious ‘self’ in deep and somewhat reflective thought. I see the many families running for cover from the rain and it makes me wonder- how shall I seek refuge?

          My eyes still pressed tight as a tear manages to escape. The bed is cold. Very little light can be seen outlining the door to my room. Shadows disrupt the soft shimmering light of the hallway. It does seem much quieter now than before. I remain here, still. Restless mind but my body calm, I am still unable to sleep. Like the sea of a windless day. My mind, like the depths, is scattered schools of thought, rushing and seeking out their destinies. Some hide, some seem to escape. But all are surrounded by the earth, never fully being able to surface. An iceberg that has baffled scientists, my mind is only exposed slightly to those who can understand. The rest is left up to me to deal with. But how? Why should I? I guess that’s the question.

          Hours pass as sleep continues to seem less and less attainable. I can hear what sounds like the morning birds. Yet the air is still thick. Trapped air as though it has been breathed a thousand times before. Familiar voices still mumble in a constant low level hum. I wonder if I have left my window open as the scent of the flowers are very much present.

          My memory takes me to more recent times as I search for the peace to rest. Only a short time ago did this wonderment of my ever so noisy mind would consume me. My love of mountain ranges found me traveling up toward the peak on a winding road that circled this pointed mass of earth. What a beautiful breathtaking view.  It seems as though I am driving into the heavens as clouds surround me. How nature sure can construct the very things that man can not even imagine. To breath this thin air as I climb this monstrous mound of prehistoric earth. For what reasons, other than beauty should such a place exist? Is this a life form in it of itself? Could this be the meaning in life in which I seek? I climb, taller and taller, abstract in thought, but one with nature. And I do breathe the thin air and grasp another stone I look ahead at the mountains peak. Below me seems insignificant, only a road in which I had traveled now beyond me, behind me. Tumbling are the small stones that fall on the path I no longer control. I stop and look around at this vast country, at this earth, and I have found rest.

          Familiar voices do continue as the cracks in the door still shine light. The continuing smell and fragrance of the flowers still question their purpose to me, but soon I may find their meaning. The air, still very much thick, still very much stale.  Thoughts slow. The organ music is playing a dirge as I am lowered to rest eternally into the soil. As my purpose fulfilled and the hole in which I am sunk into, and now, all is silent. The hollow sounds of dirt knocking on my door become more and more distant. And now, I rest.

 

Author's Note

I was reading Steppenwolf when I wrote this..

Reviews

[lilain]

Oh, jeez! As I read the final paragraph I finally got what was going on - a funeral. All along I had images of a person tossing and turning in bed, but the ending is, well, striking! This is a good thing, Jason.

You've got an excellent knack at setting the reader up for one thing and then leading them down another path. You give the hints, yet you still successfully have the reader move in the opposite direction of your intended reveal. This is quite a skill!!

Well done!

[Clouded in Hopeful Illu..]

It's easy to picture a teenager or some other young human in the beginning of this. And then you start to pick up on the clues that you have left in the story to sort of show what is truely going on. This gives a new meaning to "Life flashes before your eyes". Not only did his life play out before his very eyes, but also the sounds, the smells, and the feelings. This is terrirtory that I have not known someone to cross with. It was a great choice for this story. Thank you for sharing it.

[Blade & Blood (The ..]

Wow! This was great! ...But now I completely hate you because that was, I think, the sixth time you tricked me in your writing. lol! I cannot believe I fell for it again. :P

*sigh* All I can say, is "Bravo!" because the way you just lulled me into these memories and images just like you did the other poems and stories and whatnot was completely unbelievable. "Fool me once, shame on you; fool me sixfold, shame on me." LMAO

Ironically Yours, Blade and Blood

[pal]

A nice thoughtful trip, where self float through.

bravo
pal

[Brette Medb]

The ending caught me by complete surprise but it was a great ending! After the last lines the whole piece suddenly made more sense and the wonderment of it. I wonder if people do see the end that way, if though their soul's have left their body they can still 'know' what is going on during their funeral. Very eerie. Great write with wonderful details and descriptions.

Brette

[Wildfleour]

I was definitely surprised at the ending.

[Siddartha Beth Pierce]

Oh, yes, the ending gave me chills. What delightful, nostalgic memories as the character settles into final rest. Wonderful write. Very compelling. Thank you.
Light,
Siddartha

[Dani California]

Oh wow Jason! Excellent! That ending took me by quite a surprise...my goodness!
I agree, you set that up quite well my friend!

You created a lot of wonderful imagery throughout as well.

I'm still a bit taken aback by the ending... while I was reading I was thinking
to myself, this should be called "Insomnia". Man was I far off. lol

Outstanding!

[Forest Green]

This is great...! Enjoyed it...the font was a little dizzying, but the text is very well done, Jason.

Nice laying out of memories and the rather arduous development of youthful interest--even passion.

Keep this going...nice work...!

Daniel