where I actually wake up on time determined to be responsible today.
where that only lasts about an hour before I start slacking.
where I’m tired because I stayed up way too late last night.
where I had to sweep up pasta and broken glass.
where I’ve gone way too many days without a shower.
where a nap I intended to be 15-30 minutes ended up going for 3 hours.
where I get my napping dreams momentarily confused with reality.
where my dreams rock (they always do though).
where sleeper’s blog entries are better than mine (they always are though).

an adaptation

This is art. Lots of lines to read between and lots of possibilities to be read between them. The exact meaning is in the eye of the beholder. About a state of being, not any individuals except any individuals. That’s all.

alone
together
naked
no barriers
no boundaries
no secrets
no shame
seeing
hearing
tasting
smelling
feeling
touching
caressing
kissing
speaking
whispering
laughing
breathing
being
together
alone
knowing
caring
wanting
giving
taking
having
belonging
becoming
soon
two individuals
becoming
for a moment
one

Today (well, yesterday, as it’s now nearly 2:00 AM), as I do many days when I can, I got up around noon after sleeping in for a long time and then finally lying around awake for a bit. And as often happens when I sleep in, I dreamed. The specifics were fuzzy when I woke up and will continue to get fuzzier with time, but they aren’t important. My last dream last night was a story about people in weird romantic situations. I had a more specific description typed out, but realized that really isn’t important, except to say that I woke up with the idea that I should write out the story in the dream, and that it should be called “The Shortest Love Story”, and that the moral of it would be something like “love is all that matters”. Which of course in the real world is never quite true, there are other factors, although some of us perhaps do give them too much weight at times.

Anyway, the dream was way too fuzzy to write out, even if I did reinvent most of the details, and wouldn’t make that good, or that short, of a story anyway. And I wasn’t sure of the moral the dream had come up with. But I was still intrigued by the idea of “The Shortest Love Story”, so I lay there for a few minutes puzzling over what that could be and how I could write it. And I finally figured it out. So here it is.

The Shortest Love Story
by snafu

I know who the love of my life is.

I don’t know him by name or specific description, or this story would be a lot longer and potentially happier.

I don’t know if I’ve met him yet or if I’ll meet him in the future. I’m young enough I’m going to assume future. But who knows. I do know how it will happen.

I’ll be going about my ordinary business. I’ll be working, shopping, going for a walk, or even on vacation. The where isn’t important. And suddenly there he’ll be, walking towards me, also going about his ordinary business.

I’ll see him and be instantly attracted, checking him out before I’ve even consciously decided to do so. My eyes will wander over him and I’ll like what I see, even if I can’t say why. As we get closer our eyes will meet, if only for an instant. Somehow in that instant I’ll see through them into his mind and heart and soul and see that he is my perfect companion and counterpart. I’ll know for that instant that this is it, this is love. For that instant.

It will likely be the same for him.

At least one of us will act on it. I’ll smile, or he’ll say hi. Maybe we even both will. Perhaps we’ll exchange smiles and “hi”s or even a “how are you?” - “fine”. But at some point at least one of us will hold back. I won’t smile back because I’m shy and afraid, or won’t say hi. Or if I do I won’t let it go any further than that. Or he won’t.

And so we’ll go on, and the moment will pass, that instant will be over. I may feel good about having had another human being smile at me, or I may be kicking myself for not doing more, but I’ll go on. And that instant will fade, like a dream. In a few minutes it will seem minor and in a few hours it will be forgotten entirely. As far as I will ever know it was just another of a thousand encounters with people of no real importance.

Except it wasn’t.

This story does of course have a very definite moral and point I’m trying to get across. I was going to do my usual overexplaining of it and pontificating on the subject, but now I find myself lazy and I think it’s fairly obvious. Besides, I should stop ruining art that way. But in case it’s not obvious: it’s about opportunities and what you should do with them, and why.