eternal sunshine of my childhood's mind

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when i was a child i believed everything was alive and thinking. i would look up at the clouds and think

"they are so high up there. They are greater than i am. what must They think of me? i need to learn from Them."

they wouldn't reply. i would think

"seeeee! SOoo great they are!"

then They would rain and even greater They became...

at night, the flowers whispered secrets to one another.

"did you see the one with the pink biker shorts on?"

"oh yeah! she really needed to blow her nose!"

and they would giggle together as they swayed in the midnight breeze.

the books in the library were so lucky! volumes crowded together. keeping each other warm. contact. I would walk through each aisle, not neglecting one of them. i had to look at all of them. i would run my finger across their spines. like pets. they were more than pets, they were my friends. i would find a few to "read" sometimes. i would collect 5 or so and stack them in front of me on the table. i would get so excited, but try to fight my lips from smiling.

"lips! we're in the library! shhh!" 

then i would open one book and look through it's pages. every corner, word, punctuation mark, number, image, tear, pencil mark, food stain... i wouldn't read them though. i was there for the books, not for the content...

as the sun set, the trees would wake up for a brief moment. they would stretch out their branches towards one another and call,

"come, take my hand. let's watch the sun set."

and together they would watch the horizon swallow the Sun - their provider of Life. and i would lean on the trees - my Pillars - and settle myself under their branches and leaves - my Shelter. my provider of Life.

each balloon was different. a different color, shape, height, string... some swayed to the right others to the left. some stayed close to the floor. i would always keep my balloons until they died. folding them properly and wrapping their string around them then gently placing them in the garbage can... for balloons needed care just like any body else did.

the saddest thing i ever saw were the balloons that were let go of. off they flew into the sky getting smaller and smaller...

"but where do they go?!"

...

"will they be safe?"

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at 5 i had the most vivid dream that i could fly. I was standing on the couch in my living room (my then huge - now small living room), i looked straight down at the ground and with my arms reached out horizontal, i jumped and soared through the room-the room increasing in size as i soared, as my daddy prepared dinner... That dream was so real.

A while later I remembered flying and how good it felt. So, I climbed up the couch, reached out my arms, this time looking straight ahead, confident, and jumped. I crashed into the scratchy rude coarse dream-slaughtering powerless carpet . crashing with me, my confidence in flight.

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to innocence and wide-eyes.