Untitled.

Confronted with its state of disarray over the period of the past few months, my sleep broke off yet again, leaving me alone with my thoughts in the middle of the night. Like always, it had been dreamless. The flickering streetlight illuminated the swaying slit on the drab, cream-coloured walls as the curtains danced lifelessly; the monotone clicking of the wall clock providing them rhythm. 

Aphantasia. That's what I suffered from. 

It occurred to me that I had never considered the absence of my "mind's eye" to be a kind of suffering before, but the void in what was left of my heart had perhaps made me reconsider what I had confirmed to myself before. I want to see vivid images like everyone else when I close my eyes. I want to dream.

I sighed, preventing myself from wandering off into those deep, seldom trodden topics at the back of my mind lest I lose myself and end up making the void in my heart larger than it already was. 

I felt movement beside me. I turned. The sound of my sigh seemed to have woken him up. 

Can't sleep? I nodded. Why? It's restless. It's dreamless; worthless. Since when? It's always been like that. 

Now close your eyes. Close them and think of a wondrous world; a world where you rule, a world which coexists with this one in perfect harmony, constructively moving in coordination to give birth to a mellifluous melody by their confluence. 

And as I followed every step of his instructions, despite being unable to see the wonders my mind could have conjured, every word that fell on my ears left me with a beautiful idea. A smile played itself on my lips. 

And that, my beloved, is a dream. He paused, and I opened my eyes. Tell me what you saw. 

Before I could open my mouth to tell him, the wall-clock chimed thrice - its sound soft but clear, echoing in my ears as I emptily watched his fleeting image float away to oblivion. 

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