2008 Woodie Awards
The Flip Side
We Meet in Dreams
Jacklyn Duff
Issue date: 11/7/06 Section: Entertainment
- Page 1 of 1
She woke up one morning and looked around. She tried to shake the exhaustion in her eyes, her body. She waited for her pupils to adjust to the darkness broken only by vague morning light and the glow of a computer screen. A computer, 1s and 0s containing her life. It contained parts of her soul; her writings, her music. It contained what she had become. Projects, essays, word documents of class objectives riddled with homework problems.
She woke up one morning and looked around. She could not shake the exhaustion. She could not shake the darkness. She recognized nothing in the room, not even herself. What has her life become? Is this what it is all about? Waking up wishing you weren't up. Wishing the dreams would capture you again. Wishing that this isn't reality, that you are still asleep.
She woke up one morning and looked around. The room was a mess. She was a mess. Empty cups drained of their caffeine contents. Styrofoam containers deprived of their fat filled hunger quenching (yet not taste quenching) food. Papers. Papers drenched the room like a summer's thunderstorm. The desk and floor were flooded because no more could seep into the drawers; they were already saturated.
She woke up one morning and looked around. Without a word she set her tired feet on the ground. She grabbed a bag. She sifted through the layer of papers to find items. In no time at all she was ready, for what, she didn't know. For the first time, she didn't know where she was going as she clutched her keys and with that she was gone.
She wakes up one morning and looks around, and leaves it all behind. Going 75 mph to somewhere, to nowhere. The radio is turned all the way up. Windows down. Air rushing all around her mingled with radio waves. She has no plans. She has no direction. She has no map. She, she has no expectations. She has a smile.
One morning…she woke up.
She woke up one morning and looked around. She could not shake the exhaustion. She could not shake the darkness. She recognized nothing in the room, not even herself. What has her life become? Is this what it is all about? Waking up wishing you weren't up. Wishing the dreams would capture you again. Wishing that this isn't reality, that you are still asleep.
She woke up one morning and looked around. The room was a mess. She was a mess. Empty cups drained of their caffeine contents. Styrofoam containers deprived of their fat filled hunger quenching (yet not taste quenching) food. Papers. Papers drenched the room like a summer's thunderstorm. The desk and floor were flooded because no more could seep into the drawers; they were already saturated.
She woke up one morning and looked around. Without a word she set her tired feet on the ground. She grabbed a bag. She sifted through the layer of papers to find items. In no time at all she was ready, for what, she didn't know. For the first time, she didn't know where she was going as she clutched her keys and with that she was gone.
She wakes up one morning and looks around, and leaves it all behind. Going 75 mph to somewhere, to nowhere. The radio is turned all the way up. Windows down. Air rushing all around her mingled with radio waves. She has no plans. She has no direction. She has no map. She, she has no expectations. She has a smile.
One morning…she woke up.
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