But the bruising pressure of the mattress against my spine grew louder than my ennui. I shuffled downstairs for aspirin to ease the nagging in my back and then returned to the bedroom, slipped back under the covers, and waited. The pain reliever's caffeine cleared the clouds from my imagination. My equilibrium creaked back to center; the blood, bones, and breath of this lifetime became as inviting as the void that stretched beyond them.
The Dawns––pre- and post-caffeine––they seem so real, as though I might be trapped inside one or the other. Their story lines run parallel, as relentless as railroad tracks, but they are false selves. Me, Myself, and I? We're only dandelion puffs born on the winds of eternity.
Thoughts About a Wedding