The Brown Eyed Dreamer

'Fill your paper with the breathings of your heart.' William Wordsworth


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People Exist.

It’s a weird feeling, the sudden realisation of the people around you. Not the crowds of emotionless faces you see on streets pushing past other emotionless faces, the lines of impatient frowns waiting for their coffees in a crowded café on a Wednesday afternoon- people. It’s strange to come to the realisation that these aren’t just faces and bodies and obstacles and hold-ups and filled space, these are people. And not just any people, people with a story, just like me yet so unlike me.

It’s strange to think that all around me, there are literally a billion stories going on, a billion paths being walked and uncovered. There are people living and experiencing and journeying in this adventure we call life, and it has nothing to do with me. There’s you, for instance. Right now, you’re reading this post, but afterwards, your life story is going to continue and I’m going to have no idea what will happen next. After I post this, my story will continue, but you’ll have no idea what will happen. We exist in the same universe but never acknowledged each other until right this second, and in a few seconds we could forget that again and carry on existing on our own, forgetting everybody else in an instant.

We’re all pinpricks of light floating through a chasm of darkness, so focused on our own trails we forget to focus on the mosaic of light around us and why it’s there. I always knew there were people around me, but I never thought about the fact that these people lived. That man in front of me at the check-out has friends and family, hopes, dreams, allergies, regrets. That girl who was waiting in the car park across from me has a story I have no idea about that she’s still working out for herself. All these faces I see and forget within moments, that form the backdrop to my life story, those faces have names and emotions and their own stories. And me? I’m just someone else’s background to their great story, another fading star in a sea of dark.


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The Smoke & The Dark

Last night I dreamed I was standing alone in a cold, gaping darkness. A darkness that seemed unending until the harsh click of a lighter echoed through the abyss and filled the shadows with its intense light. A single enormous flame spurted upwards and flooded the plane around me with relentless waves of heat, flickering at my body with red-hot tongues. Using my jacket sleeve as a protection for my eyes, I peered forward into the flame to see where it had come from.

Suddenly from behind a cigarette appeared and leant forward into the lighter, thirstily lapping up the fire until the end had stolen some of the flames. Then from behind a face appeared, one I vaguely recognised but in my slumber was unfocused so as to hide from me. Lips latched around the opposite end of the cigarette and inhaled deeply, greedily feasting on the contents within. The embers flared a blood red that gleamed mockingly in the darkness, and as the user exhaled a rush of ash and smoke tumbled out of the edges and surrounded the both of us in a dark, menacing cloud..

A storm of thick ash engulfed me, filling my lungs and pricking at my eyes until I was bent over coughing, tears streaming out of my eyes in tiny waterfalls. My throat wailed and shrivelled in pain from the torments of the smoke, and as I looked up to call out to the looming face in front of me my voice caught and came out only as a raspy whisper. Desperately I coughed to try to clear my throat so I could warn the face of the smoke’s dangers but it simply poured through my throat, seeping through my blood like poison and scratching and scraping at my insides. I forced my eyes open despite the burning hot ash that fluttered dangerously around me so I could watch the huge figure above.

His face was covered in ash that engrained itself like an iron-master forging fiery patterns into his skin until it was gnarled and sunken. The flicker of flames against his cheek gave him an almost skeletal appearance as he suckled ravenously on the seemingly never-ending cigarette. Smoke coiled and curled around his features, creating a thick noose around his neck that slowly tightened with each breath of smoke that quivered outwards from his wrinkled lips. His pupils had nearly swamped his whole eyes and were as dark as our surroundings, filled with a malicious desire for the devilish taste of the cigarette.  He was drawing his own death sentence without even realising it, and as I tried to call out to him I noticed suddenly the smoke held me in a noose too and my throat was clenched so tight I could not utter a single syllable. I flailed my arms and legs around me in a frantic attempt to free myself from its iron grip to no avail.

Terrified, my eyes widened as tears prickled behind the eyelids and I tried to capture a few clean breaths. My body was slowly becoming weak, the smoke infecting me with its slow taunting spread. Suddenly the smoker stopped; lowered the cigarette to stub it out. The last few embers were beaten down, and I felt the noose around my neck tighten one last fatal time. As I felt a last splutter of breath escape my lips, we plunged into a cold, unending darkness and I closed my eyes, waiting for it all to be over.


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Merry Christmas!

Just a quick post to wish you all an amazing day wherever you are! It’s 2am in the UK and I’ll be waking up in a few hours to start celebrating. I hope you all are safe and well, and have an absolutely wonderful Christmas and a very happy new year! And for all those families who have lost somebody this year, I hope this Christmas brings you peace and hope, and I wish you all the best in the new year.
Have a fabulous day everyone! Much love,

Parneaus- thebrowneyeddreamer


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The Next Morning

And in the morning,
When the lights are too harsh,
When the night’s sparks have long since faded,
Please don’t let me forget you,
Please don’t let me regret you.

And in the morning,
When the cold seems too heavy,
When my lips have long since left yours,
Please don’t let you forget it,
Please don’t let you regret it.