Liminal rambling

A chain of thinking

I mean, who made the clouds like that? Certainly wasn't me. The washed out blues all feel very distant up there, ever changing with each passing second with nothing to worry about except the wind and time itself. Everyone at some point in their lives wish to be as carefree as a cloud, regardless of whether or not they admit it.

Every once in a while, memories come back to me of my childhood, laying on my trampoline watching the clouds make funny shapes as they go by, with the neighbors, who at this point in time have lost their names and importance in my life. What felt like every day we would look at the clouds passing by into the evening until the sky was nothing but an ocean of darkness, glimmering with the countless stars.

There's something magic about that, but I can never figure out exactly what it is. Is it the fact that there was nothing to worry about except for having the time to play outside with friends, or was it something else? I can never tell at this point, and I never really pushed myself to dwell on it any more than just a passing thought.

Time is talked about a lot for something that isn't really there. It really is funny how us, just humans, a small population of this ever changing rock in space, care so much about things that we just make up. In the end, does it all really even matter? I think not, but every opinion differs from one person to the next. That's part of what makes us unique.

It's funny how far a single thought can get us. For some, it inspires us to make great pieces of art to be enjoyed by many, while for others, it can just be a minuscule thing occupying our brains until something else grabs our attention for even a split second, allowing us to lose grip of it forever. Thoughts are such an important part of the lives of creative people, I think.

You know what else is something that we do often but never really even think much about? Sleep. It's such an interesting concept. We fall unconscious while our bodies heal from the work we did the day prior, and in the morning we wake up to a new day until we reach the time for it to claim and swallow us again. Sleep is a gentle slice of death, though not even close at the same time.

Dreams are memories, either from the future or past. They are also things that our brain puts together to entertain us in our slumber. Whether we can remember them in the morning or not, it always happens. Funny concepts, aren't they?

Last night's dream of mine included a group of friends, a well-known webcomic/game and a three-eyed sheep which must not be named. Memories and made up thoughts stored for varying amounts of time are interesting. That's why I've bothered to write down all of my vivid ones as of late. To save for later, as stories I've already experienced for my future self to read back on in wonder.

That is enough mindless rambling for one night, I must sleep in hopes for a new dream. It is always an exciting part of the day for me.