My Cardboard Balcony

Is it bad that, essentially, tonight's introspection echoes that of last week's introspection? I don't happen to think so. Ergo, I have nothing else to add. G'night!

Dream Sequence by Belinda Roddie It seems to happen the same way every night – the moment your cheeks begin to tingle on the pillow, and the air that stirs in your lungs melts away and becomes helium, and your feet feel like two balloons with the static buzzing and crackling on your dry skin. Floating, unable to run, unable to stop the flurry of pins and needles stabbing at your ripe calves. A 101 degree temperature that fuses the sheets together in a sticky kiss and turns sights, sounds, smells, and tastes all into colors. You smoke green and you see red, and you watch the world go yellow.Your veins stain orange while your lips turn blue, and you taste peach and nectarine, light and frothy, and you’re floating again. When a man closes a brown suitcase, it congeals, turns gooey, like a chocolate truffle with a foamy handle. Gray becomes coffee cup steam. Black is a misnomer. Egg white is not white. A lump of gold is a slab of butter. Silver eyes ...

"Well, at least no one stole the TV," remarked Hal as we surveyed the damage, from the broken window to the missing silverware. Still, his brother Alan was not pleased. "They took the damn china!" he snarled. "The china! That was a gift from our grandparents, Hal! How can you be cool about this?" "I'm not cool about anything," snapped Hal. "I'm just saying, at least they didn't take everything. And the dog's safe, too! I have to remain optimistic, or else I'll crack just like you are!"