My Lucid Reality

The air burned as I gasped for breath, my fingers blistering as my raw hands pulled me upwards, this cliff was not high, but there had been others.  Every handhold burning me anew, the wind whipping around me mercilessly, the heat beat a path directly to my heart.  My breathing was shallow, the air too hot to take in gulps, the breeze too dry to leave my mouth open for long, but even when closing my mouth the moisture wouldn’t come when summoned.  I coughed on the dust that no longer stuck to the inside of my mouth.  My very soul yearned for something to quench my thirst, the weakness that comes from such dehydration echoing from my feet to my fingertips, and pulsing with every throbbing beat of my heart.

How I got there was a distant memory, and where I was going was no longer important.  Running, yes, being chased, probably not; but running from something, and that is what had led me to this dry and barren land.  My body hung limp by my arms as I pulled myself upwards, trying not to pant with the exertion as I threw my body onto the ledge.  The sun was high over-head, all around was sand, red rock, and barren earth.  I imagined that at one time some of these withered and dry plants expected seasonal rains, but now; their hope was echoed in mine, a dim candle fighting in the dark against a playful breeze.  The plants and I wishing for life despite the desperate circumstances that brought us here.

Sitting I looked behind me, footsteps disappeared through sand over rock, and into a brown haze of dust.  Blinking my eyes against the breeze, they felt like sand paper, I wondered at being able to see without the ability to moisten my eyes.  Tears of dust rolled down my face, and brushing my arm against them I felt abandoned, thirsty, wanting.  My face ached against my touch, my skin harsh with the thousands of grains implanted against me.  Coughing I stood up, my khaki pants torn, my once nice dress shirt torn along the arms, the left sleeve missing, the right one ripped in several places and most of the buttons having long since been torn by exertion and the wind.  Blond sun bleached hair waved in the breeze, cleaned by the ever blowing sand, sand brown shoes that had once been fine black leather.

As I stood to continue my escape the sand poured from around me, licking my lips, an act of instinct and habit that served no productive purpose now, I began again to walk towards the horizon.  The strength in my arms left me as I flexed against the pain, the dull ache of a long days work flowed through every particle of me, and from the many days of running it had turned into a constant thrum that echoed against the breeze, the desire for something to drink almost as desperate as my physical need for something quenching.

Wondering when the last time I relieved myself was, I imagined at this point that any opening in my body would simply pour dust, that the last remaining liquid in my body must be centered around the last few pulses in my chest, and outside of that, my body resembled the stark landscape.  Dust blew through my vision, and I closed my eyes against the heat.  With unfeeling fingers fragments of my shirt were pulled up to cover my mouth and nose against the dust, leaving exposed the blond mop hair and blue eyes, and besides that skin on my arms and chest that had seen too much sun, and far too much sand.

My feet moved with mechanical rhythm, if not grace, at least their movement was constant, the sun stayed overhead, always at the zenith in the sky, the movement was pained, rocked cracked under my feet, sand crackled under my footsteps, the wind called to me with a voice of high pitch anguish, asking me to give in and let the heat take me.  There were plants around my path, long dry and covered in a coating of dust.  At first I sought plants that would quench my thirst, but long days taught me lessons in futility that I shall take with me to my withered grave.

To my left sand and rolling hills before me a line that flows to deep red cliffs on my right.  I continued to walk, minutes turned to hours, and hours turned to dust, I moved forward, there was no path of which to speak, a place where the sand met the rocks, the brown dead vegetation was less here, the ragged desert rocks less perilous underfoot.  I walked, I crawled, I panted in exhaustion, the sun burned, and then… it was gone.  Sand enveloped me, covered my face, and covered my head, the pressure overwhelming, and the suffocation complete.  I had time enough to close my eyes, and the world grappled as I fell into darkness.

I enjoy this story, the reflection of real life, the metaphor.

Have you ever felt such a thirst, such a hunger?

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