In Continuum.

Encephalitis Lethargica

When you're dreaming with a broken heart
The waking up is the hardest part
You roll out of bed and down on your knees
And for a moment you can hardly breathe

The Sandman graphic novels should be labeled with a warning on the cover that warns the readers of possible contraction of Encephalitis Lethargica. Because it seems like I've been contracted with that disease, or the sleeping sickness, every time I decide to start reading the book. Besides, characters from the early chapters had the same disease too, so it isn't entirely impossible to make such a seemingly ridiculous claims.

I haven't been sleeping well as of late. The insomniac spell hits me a couple of times a year, and this period of time is probably it. I remember last year, I had a two-week row of bad nights in bed, unable to sleep in camp when everything just felt too hot or too uncomfortable. It should be around the same period of time I guess, but I reckon this time it is for other reasons.

But the problem is not really about not sleeping at night, but rather the problem of falling asleep in the afternoon. I've been sleeping too much at home, and thus the urge to get out of the house everyday. But the sleeping sickness is bugging me these days in the afternoon, and the worst part about sleeping is probably the dreaming. It isn't something that you can control, and not everybody has the ability to create lucid dreams. It is a skill I am still practicing, but the problem arises when your dreams take you to unwanted places, places in reality you have been desperately trying to forget.

Wondering was she really here?
Is she standing in my room?
No she's not,
'Cause she's gone, gone, gone, gone, gone...

It felt like a thin layer of white paint was washed over a layer of blue, making the bottom layer still vaguely visible. That was how the sky was like in my dream this afternoon, as I looked up into the sky in my dream, walking in a random estate. It all looked and felt vaguely familiar, though I wasn't able to put my finger on it. The way the trees lined on either side of the road I was walking on, and the way the houses on the right looked so infinitely creepier than the ones on the left. Oh yes, I remember. I was here before, but only in reality.

I bent down and knelt at the side of the road, running my fingertips across the coarse surface. It felt rough against my skin, and for a moment the word 'dream' never occurred to me. It felt real, the way the air smelled and the road felt. The familiarity of the place was altogether nostalgic and haunting. And as I was examining the ground which I was on, a shadow came over me. Two sets of toes, barefooted, presented themselves before me. Down to the knees were your skirts, and above that your favorite white top.

When you're dreaming with a broken heart
The giving up is the hardest part
She takes you in with the crying eyes
Then all at once you have to say goodbye

There you were, standing right in front of me all over again. I dropped the rock in my hand and held ran my hands across your arms, feeling the smooth skin all over again, wondering if it was all real. You smiled down at me, and pulled away, backing off to the other side of the road and into the shadows of the trees. I tried to call out to you, but you refused to turn back. And down the lane you walked, your skirt fluttering in the afternoon wind and your hair was all over the place. I thought I smelled your tears lingering in the air, the salty taste of sadness infiltrated my senses. So even in dreams, you have to walk away from me.

There is just one thing I want to say to you, before you really go off, I shouted. You stopped in your tracks, turning around to reveal your cheeks streaked with hot tears. Your eyes followed mine as I walked up to you on the lonely street, the wind against our faces seized but not taking away the evening's chill. "What?", you said, looking up at me from where you were.

"I don't know," I said.

"Just stay for a while."

Wondering could you stay my love?
Will you wake up by my side?
No she can't
'Cause she's gone, gone, gone, gone, gone...

The trees fell away with the pavements, the houses shrunk into themselves all around us. Bit by bit, the world disintegrated into a cloud of mist, swirling about us in an endless cycle. Everything was going away, one second at a time. We didn't have much time, there in the junction where the two roads met. The sky was darkening slowly as well, resembling even more of the night when we took our own stroll through the neighborhood.

"Hate me, if you have to." you said, ignoring the breaking of the world into a million shattered pieces of debris. Your tears frozen upon your red hot cheeks, warm against my thumb like the warm snow you mentioned on your imaginary planet.

"I tried, but I can't."

"Then there is no point for me to stay."

And you started to walk away again. Down the street and between piles of broken bricks. The world was crumbling away under our feet and over our heads, and the only remaining constant then was the white void beyond the edges of the disappearing world, and the tears that started to flow from your eyes again. The time for confession was then, now or never. A breath was taken, and into your disappearing silhouette in the horizon and said:

"If you decide to come back to me, I will say yes."

If you come back to me, I will say yes.

You stopped again, the salty smell in the air seized again. The light reflected off the frozen tear, like crystal now it hung from your eyelids. With careful steps you threaded through the destruction around us, and came up to me. Your breath was hot against my chest then, and for a moment the sound of the world vanishing stopped, leaving only the sound of beating hearts in my chests and the wind blowing through our hair. Your head came close to my chest, and the frozen tear melted against my shirt. You cried again, but this time the tears fell not on the tarmac road but onto my shirt.

We embraced, and it was all quiet as it was when we first arrived. The serenity, when we first embraced and kissed, was felt again in that dream of mine, when we kissed again by the side of the road, the first time in a very long time, the last time in for ever. Time stopped working, the world stopped crumbling, the tears stopped falling, and you came back to me...

Now do I have to fall asleep with roses in my hands?
Do I have to fall asleep with roses in my hands?
Do I have to fall asleep with roses in my hands?
Do I have to fall asleep with roses in my, roses in my hands?

The evening light filtered through the white curtains of my room. The humid afternoon air stung my skin, despite the efforts by the spinning fan next to my bed. I kicked the blanket off my body and stared up into the ceiling, wondering what just happened in bed. The end of the world, the coming back of you into my life, the falling of tears. It was all unreal, it was all fake. It was all merely part of a dream that I didn't want to wake.

I laid awake for the longest time, listening to the bustling uproar in the kitchen and the television in the living room. Nobody knew what happened in my room, in my head, in my dreams. Nobody outside of it knew, but myself and not even you. I laid there, absorbing the reality and trying to return back to it, but at the same time desperately wanting to dive back to where I was.

Tears welled in my eyes, the only remnant of the dream to me. Because aside from the crumbling world around me and the tears, none of the dream stayed in my real life, not even you or the silhouette of you. Because dreaming with a broken heart, the waking up is indeed the hardest part. But I meant whatever I said in the dream, but are you going to react to my words with the same dreamy kiss?

Would you get there without this
No you won't
'Cause you're gone, gone, gone, gone, gone...

When you're dreaming with a broken heart
The waking up is the hardest part...