Restore Harmony

If I try to articulate my dreams, I may invite them into existence. But I don’t know if my dreams even belong to me. I dreamt that I had to remove my own heart and place it in a safe box before entering a celestial detector, which was capable of registering hearts and sounding the alarm. Before taking out my own heart to pass through, I had to replace the crater in my chest with something unknown. A foreign substance. For the time being. It was part of a game the whole world was playing. The multitude of hearts lined up on a conveyor belt had colourful auras that determined their specific powers. I knew my heart would restore itself if I returned. 

I was sitting along the edge of a sandstone cliff with my twin. We were not the same person, but we both had the same memories. Were we thinking different thoughts at the same time? We came from a dangerous land where the trees and flowers burn. We both agreed to keep all our unborn children safe from the world by not bringing them into it. Then we jumped and collapsed onto the desert floor and broke all our bones. I began to chisel and probe the dirt, yet I couldn’t find its eyes. The stillness of my twin frustrated me, even though she had every right to remain silent. But her silence was haunting this place with every numbered breath. 

Music started to echo through the dusty valley. The pauses between the notes entertained an emptiness that allowed them to reverberate and fill up the fractures in our bones. The spaces between the notes, my symphony, carefully chosen, were enough to sound like a harmonious melody. Actively resting, I used the remaining moments to either conclude or prepare myself for the following note, the bridging segment, the next phase.