The pills take me down to where the dreams become one, rolling into each other, swirling with reality into a sweet, tart mixture of confusion about what was, what will be, and what only existed in my mind for one short night while I was caught under the sway of medication.
When I wake my ears are hot where they connect to my skull, but it’s a pleasant sort of burning, like laying in the sun after swimming and letting the sun kiss you dry. My brain is quiet, its usual frantic humming muted and lazy as it comes out of the haze. My limbs are limp; I am calm and capable, unable to remember to stay in my usual existence state of tensed.
I can’t grasp hard enough at anxiety for it to permeate my body, and I choose to swat it away lazily for once instead of holding it tight to my breast. It buzzes off in irritation, taking you with it. I don’t have the focus to wonder why, today.
It gives me a brief flux of hope that there will be other days free of wondering and combing over the memories. What’s the point? Better to bury them away in the hot part of my brain, until they cool and I can finally lay them to rest.
The windows are open, it smells like rain again in that beautiful rich way that feels like all the good things I seek are folding around me like meringue, and so I sigh and go back to sleep.
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