I wake from my dream panting, as always. Though I have been plagued by dreams of falling since my childhood, I have never been able to halt the sudden panic that emerges upon my waking, nor have i ever been able to ease the ghostly traces of pain between my shoulders. The dream continues to grow more ornate, but I know that if I could fall back asleep, I would not have it again tonight, and it would not trouble me come the morning.
I look over at the clock, and see that it reads 7:26. I had to get up at 7:30 anyway. The extra four minutes of sleep are hardly worth waking again to the hellish shrieking of the alarm. Thank you, no. I will arise.
I roll out of my admittedly uncomfortable bed to the floor, and manage to avoid crushing my cellphone and MP3 player. I dress, groom, and am downstairs before five minutes has passed. I do not eat anything, though I do guzzle a bottle of water. I cannot walk down the beach if I die of preemptive heat-stroke.
I hear my little sister stir above me, and consider telling her to hurry up, so that maybe we won't be late for work in three hours. I decide not to bother. It would not make a difference either way.
I step out into the salty morning air, and am grateful for the quiet. It is summer, tourist season, and though I am not a morning person, I very much love being alone. Sometimes, at any rate. I nearly skip down the wooden stairs of the condo, put my headphones in my ears, and start off on my morning walk. I do not run, because it is summer, and I am not nearly dedicated or masochistic enough to do so.
As I walk beside the ocean, I find myself wishing for a silent presence beside me who could share the beauty of the moment. Most people are too busy to notice things like the light sparkling off the water or the birds diving for their breakfast in the distance. But I am not willing to put up with their noise, and so I brush the thought aside. It is a beautiful day, and there is no point in being morose for nothing, especially when it is my choice to run alone.
I look over at the clock, and see that it reads 7:26. I had to get up at 7:30 anyway. The extra four minutes of sleep are hardly worth waking again to the hellish shrieking of the alarm. Thank you, no. I will arise.
I roll out of my admittedly uncomfortable bed to the floor, and manage to avoid crushing my cellphone and MP3 player. I dress, groom, and am downstairs before five minutes has passed. I do not eat anything, though I do guzzle a bottle of water. I cannot walk down the beach if I die of preemptive heat-stroke.
I hear my little sister stir above me, and consider telling her to hurry up, so that maybe we won't be late for work in three hours. I decide not to bother. It would not make a difference either way.
I step out into the salty morning air, and am grateful for the quiet. It is summer, tourist season, and though I am not a morning person, I very much love being alone. Sometimes, at any rate. I nearly skip down the wooden stairs of the condo, put my headphones in my ears, and start off on my morning walk. I do not run, because it is summer, and I am not nearly dedicated or masochistic enough to do so.
As I walk beside the ocean, I find myself wishing for a silent presence beside me who could share the beauty of the moment. Most people are too busy to notice things like the light sparkling off the water or the birds diving for their breakfast in the distance. But I am not willing to put up with their noise, and so I brush the thought aside. It is a beautiful day, and there is no point in being morose for nothing, especially when it is my choice to run alone.
