Resolution

Resolution.

You're dreaming. You know that from the blurriness of your surroundings, like a camera that just won't focus. You're in a park, deserted but for a man asleep on a wooden bench nearby. You try to walk, but realise that you aren't there. At least, not in a body. You are the park. You are the trees, the grass, the sky. The man awakens, and you see his eyes, the only things in focus, a glittering blue. You feel yourself being drawn into them, until they are all you can see, they fill your vision, so bright as to be unbearable.
And the dream ends. You awaken with a start, and try to recall what the dream had been about. But the images fade into the dark recesses of your mind before you can grasp them.
The golden light of early morning struggles to reach through the slit of your drawn curtains, the thin sliver that manages to pass crossing over your bed, a golden line through the centre of your room.
You get up, and draw the curtains apart, the light floods the room, the sheer strength of it sending flashes of colour across your eyes. The sun is rising over the tips of buildings, the cars on the street below glinting brightly from its radiance. Across the road your neighbours are getting ready for work, a car door slams, and they're gone.
You turn away from the window, and pull on the clothing you left on the floor last night.
Then everything fades... Fragments of pictures flit around your mind... Getting in the car, going to work, talking to your boss, blue eyes.
Now you're in the park. You come to it every night, after work. It helps you to relax. It is deserted, but for a man asleep on the park bench. Somehow it all seems familiar, but you can't figure out why. A plane roars overhead, and the man awakens...
Then everything fades... Fragments of pictures flit around your mind... Getting in the plane, flying out from Sydney, stopping at Fiji, Canton Island and Honolulu, blue eyes...
Now you're in the plane. Something is nagging at you, something not quite right. You're on flight 304, on the Douglas DC-6 aircraft called “Resolution.” You're headed for San Francisco, a work trip. A man sits beside you, bright blue eyes looking into yours with such intensity that you immediately look away.
Then everything fades... Fragments of pictures flit around your mind... The park, the man on the bench, a fortune teller, blue eyes...
You are back in the park. The man is awake, and calls you over. You step forwards, as if in a dream. He smiles gently at you.
“You will die soon. Your flight is doomed. Do not board the Resolution.”
You stagger back. You do not believe in the psychic. The man is mad, insane.
Then everything comes into focus... The crash, pain, darkness.
The blue-eyed man stands before you.
“I warned you.”
Then you are falling backwards, everything is rushing away from you. The blue-eyed man raises his hand in farewell.

Drifting

I observe the passing of the ages
I see you
I hear you
I smell you
I watch you from the shadowed places
I'm not dead
Not yet
Just drifting
I can feel your anger
Your hope
Your love
Your sorrow
I watch you from the shadowed places
I'm not dead
I gaze on as your life unfolds
Each beat of your heart
Each breath you take
I watch you from the shadowed places
Just drifting
Every time you dream I'm there
Calling
Pleading
Screaming
I'm not dead
Not yet
Just drifting
I loved you, you destroyed me
You hurt me
You shunned me
You tore me away
I watch you from the shadowed places
Just drifting
Just dreaming
Just waiting
I watch you