The harder I try to keep my eyes open, the rawer they feel. There's a buzzing sensation in my lymph nodes, and they ache. Oh how they ache. My head feels too big for my neck. Like a bowling ball on a toothpick. I wish I could rest my heavy bowling ball head on my cluttered desk for a few minutes.
I'm staring out the window now, watching the moody clouds pass by quickly. Too quickly. I wish they'd just stop and hover for awhile, enjoying the raucous shouts of kids hanging from the jungle gym on our playground. I think they might like basking in Mr. Sun's warm rays and drinking in the musky scent of the earth they drenched last night. But they blow by, content to head eastward, unaware of all they're missing. Maybe their ignorance is bliss.
I think I will travel eastward with the clouds today. I'll ride away on the silvery cloud in the upper left pane of my window. She looks light and carefree. Perhaps she will whisk me off to the Sierra Nevada Mountains and I can watch her water the purple asters and the Giant Sequoia trees. Perched on my silvery chariot, I will throw pebbles into Lake Tahoe and watch the ripples surge outwards and lick the sandy shores. When shadows darken the mountaintops and the sun begins to set, my silvery cloud will swallow the dusky light and transform into a golden schooner. It will sail over the fiery orb dripping below the horizon, off into the night song of the star-spangled sky. As my schooner glides through a sea of stars, I will listen to the galaxies sing their harmonies, and I will roll over onto my back to watch them compose their celestial symphony. And then, I will drift off to sleep.
The next morning I will wake up in my bed, and I will smile as I look forward to my day, when I will listen to the gleeful shouts of children on the playground as the sun shines through the window, and the breeze carries the smell of moist earth through my cracked door.