There is an obvious oxymoron in the title of this. As the sun sets and the city stars suddenly blink on, the mind falls into a clouded pit. The haze is evident in vision, as well as all the other senses. Decisions made, oh decisions gone by. Maybe the past is scaled to be, ultimately determined by a colossal accumulation of decisions, many of which will be made in the night. The thousand regrets pass me by, they skip along time and sound a stark omen to the many impetuous actions to come. But it’s just that, the haze of the night, that makes it a medium of sparkling painting. I dream of a night so lusciously romantic, so decadently satisfying and smoldering with passion.
The heartwarming heat can clear the murky haze and bring forth the cool crispness of the night. Maybe I’m too much of a dreamer, but I dream nonetheless. For a man without dreams has lost his path in life, I dream.
The unlikely nature of such hopeful thoughts makes it so much sweeter. I think of what it would be like to have the night aglow with dazzling beauty, utter magnificence. A waft of graceful charm drifts through the air, in harmony with the clarity of the night.
The indulgence is not only visual, however, as the craving for food is satisfied with such highfalutin style. Perhaps some alcohol is sneaked into the meal, mischievously working its way to our minds, making reality all the more clear.
Eat. Drink. Laugh. Smile. Walk. Hug. Kiss. Kiss some more.
Perhaps dreams will remain dreams. Such a fantastical envisage seems all the less likely to occur. Perhaps the ultimate goal is to lose this hope, all my hopeless dreams.
I can beg and I can cry. I can hammer away at my life. But the future is one of complex uncertainty. I can live in the moment, but I cannot hope but continue to dream. Perhaps these dreams will eventually fade away. Maybe I can keep them ablaze in my mind and heart. Or maybe my desperate attempts at safeguarding these dreams have destroyed these dreams. Have they been smothered? Have I unwillingly and inadvertently transformed passionate desires into heartburn?
Perhaps this will only be answered with the passage of time. After all, uncertainty can answer all the questions in the world.
“Hold fast to dreams,
For if dreams die
Life is a broken-winged bird,
That cannot fly.” – Langston Hughes