Dreams and Photos for a Sunday Morning

Dreams and Photos for a Sunday Morning

Posted: June 2003
Title: Dreams and Photos for a Sunday Morning
Author: Kia
Type: FCS
Characters: Orlando/Viggo
Rating: G (what's wrong with me???? I'm gettin all sappy...)
Disclaimer: I don't actually use any names in this... but nevertheless it's a falsity... untruth... only real in a land where Viggo Sean and Orli are my sex slaves.
Notes: I kicked this little baby out at 2 am, sparked by a weird mood that obviously called for some sap therapy. Please tell me what you think, I'm experimenting with some different styles.

Summary: Dreams and reality blur sometimes. And that's quite all right.

*****

The touch of warm, smooth skin under your fingertips feels strangely detached, like it isn't really you who's feeling it. Your movements are languid and exaggerated, you can feel your smile before you even begin to form it. Something's warm against your back, relaxing you, yet making you highly aware. Your eyes begin to flutter and your focus gradually centers on the sleeping form next to you.

An old photograph on the floor of your attic is all you can relate this moment to. The edges of it are blurred and discolored. It looks like two similar photographs fused together, one clear and in focus, the other blurry and faded, in an attempt to create some kind of visual analogy. If you could materialize the idea behind the word dream, that old picture would be it. The story being told not exactly what it seems, yet real enough to convince you.

And it's funny, because all you can think about right now is creating more photographs to eventually fade and decay into that pseudo-dream world. You'll never really be able to verbalize this feeling, the feeling of dream teetering on reality. The feeling of the sun pouring in the window behind you, slowly coaxing you awake, but still emerged, if only briefly, in the dream world where everything is amplifed and perfect.

Even though you'd like nothing more than to feeze this moment in time, you know that no matter how expressive the photograph, it can't capture the gentle rise and fall of pleasant sleep. Can't express how it feels to press your fingertips to soft lips, can't describe the feeling of gently brushing those same fingers across sleeping eyelids, only to awaken and realize, to your delight, that the dream world has melted into and meshed with reality.

Resigning to the impossiblity of creating a concrete represtation, you settle for a vivid memory. A memory you will recall time after time, your body being filled with a comforting, almost ethereal warmth. Like the warm breath tickling your palm as you memorize the face with your hands. Like the warm smile that greets you when your fingers ghost over a sensitive patch of skin. Like the warm sun this Sunday morning.

*****

THE END

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