Dream in Color

Dream in Color

You weren’t supposed to live as long as he did, he guessed.  He hadn’t done much in life that he was supposed to do, so why not live.  It was cold lying in the window and though the sun poked through the clouds every now and then, it provided no warmth, just light.  There was something about the black and white of the times that he found appealing.  Not bad for a winter day in mid-afternoon.  Of course, as soon as the sun disappeared, he hurriedly tucked the comforter under his chin.  Maybe the sun did provide some warmth in spite of itself.

Even after all these years, his sleep-wake cycle was still broken, not at all how he was raised.  With little to no effort, he could stay up all night and watch the early morning sunrise.  Then, again with little or no effort, the sun could beckon him to bed.  To this day, it was the only beckon he felt obliged to obey.

Lounging on the couch at this time of day was the height of decadence, and he knew it.  He could watch people scurry by beneath his window with all the purpose and direction of ants carrying back carcasses for dinner, some of it still moving.  He smiled.  He liked that simile and knew he should rise up and write it down for later.  It could come in handy.

He knew he could turn up the heat, blast the furnace, and shed this comforter, as well as all of his clothes.  He knew he could do it, afford it, and all the same, that was enough.  He lay still and basked in his ability to warm himself.  It was nice.  Life did have some comforts after all these years.

Didn’t somebody say that the best revenge was living long and looking good?  He knew he’d heard it somewhere.  It was his life’s creed.  He was lucky he had his health, but that was just the luck of the draw.  Not knowing his parents allowed him a blank slate where family history was concerned.  For all he knew, they perished in adolescence.  For all he cared, they may as well have.  “Bite back the bile dear.  Clear away the tears. There’s no room for that here.”  That was another of life’s creed for living into old age.

The only down side to not having siblings was there was no one to bear witness.  All of his friends, and he used the term loosely, were dead.  All were the victims of time, bad habits, bad luck, misappropriation, and violence.  He always told himself, “If there’s violence on the corner where you’re standing, duck, scramble, and move to another corner.  Why stand there and get shot?”  There was no sense to wearing out a perfectly good pair of stiletto heels wading through somebody else’s blood.  Pain did not have to be bloody.  To this day, red was not a color he wanted to see in his dreams.  He preferred to see red reflected through his eyelids as the sun shone through them.  And opening your eyes to the masses for another day?  Yeah, that was good too.

To be continued…