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Jan. 29th, 2005 10:15 pmHe sits up and it's dark and for a minute he has no idea where he is: all he knows is that he's been pushed out of a huge stained-glass church window and he's falling, falling, and he sees everything and he remembers everything he doesn't want to and everything he does want to, all mixed up and all together in one big fucked-up story and it takes him a few minutes to understand that it's just a dream.
Just a dream.
When aren't the circumstances of our lives a dream?
Maybe only when we're asleep.
Spike blinks hard, letting his eyes adjust to the dimness, to the feel of the indoor air, to the tiny strip of light filtering in from under the door. There are no shards of stained glass here; his body isn't broken and bleeding.
Not this time.
Just a dream.
When aren't the circumstances of our lives a dream?
Maybe only when we're asleep.
Spike blinks hard, letting his eyes adjust to the dimness, to the feel of the indoor air, to the tiny strip of light filtering in from under the door. There are no shards of stained glass here; his body isn't broken and bleeding.
Not this time.
