The Bureau of Dreams to be Continued by Edward Drobinski - HTML preview

The Bureau of Dreams to be Continued

Page 453

there was no evidence of his memory, he was stubbornly certain that he was right. For a privileged, melancholically, happy and hopeless moment, his possibly objective faulty, primal recollection of what he dreamed of in his youth; as to the beauty which once was on, above, and below the hill, on which he now stood, pounded his brain like exhilaration coupled with an unspoken admonishment. The remnants of the sweet dream were clearly in front of his face. The reality was much as his almost forgotten, foolish, and romantic, once upon a time fantasy. The unattained dream which he now considered to be the innocent delusion of a youthful and erroneously thought to be a never-to-come-again oasis of the sincerely joyful shared the libidinous embodiment of a loving soul which had long prior succumbed to the infectious, prevalent passion, or never really was, outside of his thoughts. It was the substance of fantasy to be enjoyed only when one was alone and ready for sleep. At some compromising point, his prior resistance to the predominant and ever-flowing waves wore out. The comfort of the old innocent songs were overwhelmed by a silent cacophony of guilty, tainted, universally, though not personally produced ugly realities, which were the result of a magnanimous smiling viewpoint which seemed to be clearly right in front of his faulty brain and eyes. While the heart of the saddened one was capable of an extremely limited foray into the life of a hermit monk, his nether regions