The Dreamer


Once in my life I met a Dreamer with eyes like the moon. His eyelashes were long, like Strada Lunga, the longest street in Brasov. His lips were fine and good shaped and his teeth white and ending in small irregularities. His gaze was uncanny, maybe because his eyelides, falling down over the retina, conveying a kind of remote knowledge that no one could see except him. However, this person charmed me not only for his appearance, but also for his dreams……………

He used to dream almost eighteen hours a day, keeping in the conscious reality only time enough for covering basic needs: eat and practice a bit of sport. When he was into the bed, the world all disappeared. Only the sheets and blanket were visible and working around his face, making comfortable each one of his subtle facial traces.

This guy was a real dreamer, the best one that I have ever seen.  He used to dream not only in the bed, but also onto the most unexpected places: kitchen, bathroom, living room, school, work…..this guy was dreaming even walking on the street! But regularly he used to spend several hours into the bed. When he was sleeping, the entirely space became warmed with his smell, a strange aroma which remembers me to jasmine. Sincerely, at the beginning all this fantasy was so fun that I didn’t want to interrupt his dreams many often. Due to this reason, he slept all the time instead of cooking, instead of  working, even when we were speaking about important things. This guy was a real dreamer, the best one that I have ever known.

With the past of the time, his dreams were higher, longer, heavier……………………

and he started to have problems getting back to the reality. First, I tried to help him: preparing four alarms into his room, simultaneously synchronized. Furthermore, I used to stroke his skin with ice. In this time I felt so responsible of him, in love and charmed by his fragance that even was sleeping next to him, with a string tied to my waist, trying to save him from the depth of his dreams. But this guy really was a real dreamer, the best one that I have ever kissed, and he started to stand too far from the present. His dreams started to occupy the small portion of reality that we usually shared. Because of this, he started to forget all the real things that we created between us, and I began to spend all my time figuring out new strategies for keeping our memories together and awake. But his dreams became confused, vicious, contagious……………and I also felt myself far from te reality, and leaving some projects and activities which usually enjoyed and learned a lot.

Suddenly, I realized that all that dreams were harmful and negative for both of us, because some basic things should be more easy-going and the reality, although sometimes boring,  is necessary in order to attain progress, to grow, to be better. The reality is banal and here there are not tricks, one has to be loyal and deal directly with certain issues. But at the end, I started to spend lot of time synchronizing reality and fiction and my life started to be tough.I was thinking about all this questions and I prepared a great poison for keeping him awake and told: “Hey dreamer, I don’t want to lose you and I don’t want to lose myself inside of this pool of fiction, just catch my hand and let’s go to the reality, with the rest of human beings”.“No babe, dreams are better than reality”, he told me. And in this moment I only could remember a sentence written by Jean Coucteau: I have no luck, he repeated, shaking his head bust, I have no luck and I never will.

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