By Konstantina Spyropoulou
They say I can dream about anything.
When I ask them how, they say you only need to have your eyes closed. I am not a dreamer, despite the black veil that keeps my eyes shut. I don’t ask, but they say some people are born different and different is always special. I wish I had something special on me, like true heroes do in the stories my brothers read to me. They can’t stand the princesses, so I only get to listen to superheroes’ stories which -let’s face it- are far more interesting. I tried reading what they call “girls’ stories” on my own, but it took days to finish one, after which my fingers ached and felt itchy.
I do prefer to “dream”- I haven’t found a better term to describe the kind of imagining that takes place in my conscious mind while trying to paint the world all over again. I try not to think so much about it as I lean back on my wheelchair, my eyes facing the sun. It has to be the sun, the big yellow fiery ball that warms even the coldest thoughts. I have heard it makes your hair lighter too, so I like to think it happens to me while I am daydreaming.
It is so boring! - having to listen to people describe the world for you. They say the funniest things about things they don’t know and places they’ve only seen in pictures. How do they know they are describing them as they truly are? I am sure everyone sees differently. They can only but “dream” about exotic places like Hawaii when trying to explain what surfers do. They haven’t even seen the place and they still tell you what it’s like. If that’s the case, I’m equally capable of seeing the world myself.
"I think dreams must have been the first movies ever made."
I love to picture every word, every image, every thought, in the tiniest cells of my brain. I think about the words so much, that they begin to tremble as they move from one cell to the other. Somehow they start jumping, dancing, racing, running faster than Olympic athletes, until they reach the curtain that’s hanging before my eyes. Then, just a little bit, I see them flickering; like shadows that are fading away. No, I won’t let that happen. I’ll flash them on repeatedly until I know that they are distinguishable from any other thing I’ve dreamt of before. I will hold on to them when they try to drift back into meaningless darkness. I’ll light them up and when satisfied with the result, send them back to the tiny drawers of my mind for a later retrieval.
Oh, it’s such a long, and tiresome, yet exciting work! How much do I love to dream… My dreams are ready to take me to where my two feet will stumble. They paint the pictures my eyes are so eager to see.
I have heard people say they can’t keep looking at the world anymore, that it’s ugly and discolored. In my world everything is pleasant and colorful. I couldn’t yet paint the word “ugly”, but if it’s so bad, what’s the need for it anyway? There are times that I wished my eyes were open so I could see “ugly” because mom said you can’t touch it. Well, it must be hard to see, too, because dad said: “even worse, you can’t feel it”. I am not sure I want to see, touch or feel “ugly”. I have touched all the colors, however. All the red shapes, yellow fruits, blue balls and pink boxes. That wasn’t enough, of course, but at least gave me something to dream about.
Yellow…. yellow must be big. And loud. And very hot sometimes, because the sun is yellow. Black- I think I know already. It is sad and very heavy, and tears are black. When I think of blue, I dream I’m on a boat and drifting far, far away in the sea… So blue is a happy color and it takes me places. I don’t like red that much, because all my nightmares are red. I know it is the color of blood and it hurts so much when you bleed. White is small and round and it can fit anywhere. Brown! It is my favorite color; it’s the color of my eyes. I used to like green better when I was smaller but not so much now that most of the foods I hate are green. Green is huge and mushy and makes me vomit sometimes.
I didn’t tell anyone I was dreaming but they concluded it would have started happening sometime, anyway. They say my brothers dream, and they can see everything perfectly clear. Yet I know they don’t see the same way because they argue all the time.
I don’t know how it’s possible for someone with eyes wide open not to see his glasses when they are in front of him! It is a picture I haven’t painted yet.
When I’m sick of painting pictures I’ll simply dive deep into the dark I see and travel… I figure that’s closer to dreaming. The air is so thin that it can break when you step on it, and the sounds are wobbly bubbles everywhere. My subconscious will randomly select thoughts and images I’ve already painted and create the funniest stories. I think dreams must have been the first movies ever made. I like watching movies because I get to transform the sounds I hear into anything I want.
The best dreams I have, however, are of when I can see again. I dream of how the light would feel to eyes that see, how the water would caress eyes that are wide open. Everything will be perfect. The earth will be so beautiful, the colors lively and bright. I won’t need people to describe the world for me or dream with my eyes closed anymore. Such dreams would have come true. It would be such a relief to finally admit that I have been dreaming with my eyes open all along, as I take a first look at myself on the crystal-clear waters of a river, or observe the colors blending harmoniously with each other on the canvas of my very first sunset. I have played the scene so many times over in my head it no longer feels like a dream. It has moved its way down to my heart where it’s safe. Every beat makes my dream truer and every breath brings me closer to forever, at a time when eyes are open and free from tears.
Besides, they say I can dream about anything, don’t they?