The dream in the Moleskine notebook

The past comes to visit sometime in my dreams. It’s always behind a bullet proof glass. We can see and hear each other but we can never touch, hug or change each other no more.

Once I told my friends that sometimes I have vivid dreams that are so strange that I wish I could record them and write a story based on my dream. They got me a Moleskine notebook as a present to keep close to my bed so if I weak up from a dream with an inspiration to write to use it and record my dream. Today it happened for the first time.

I remember I recorded my dream with a pencil and then fell asleep again. When I woke up again I found the broken pencil inside the note book next to the finished story about the book and took a photograph that I placed below my story.

……………………………………………

The phone was ringing.

I was trying to talk to her trough the strange, unfamiliar device bit I could only hear her labored breathing (into the same communication device). I could only imagine her in the distant hospital room. My pencil just broke but I could still write somehow.

The phone rang once more.

Trough the vanishing dream my fingers desperately were tapping on the bizarre device where the symbol for visualization appeared to be but I could still only hear her but could not see her. Damned pencil! I will soon be unable to write…I will totally break down.

The phone rang once more.

The device, her voice and my whole dream disintegrate in rush like a Champaign bursting out of the bottle but into reverse. Like into a dream I am now partially awoken and I answer the phone. A familiar voice that saved my life once before again with a phone call is asking me "How are you:"… I say “thank you for saving me from the nightmare” and I realize the peculiarity of the moment. My pencil just broke… "I should not be sad" I thought, "It was just a dream". But I couldn’t stop the sadness or myself being a part of it.