Ignore the Beasts in the Room [mark]

“Ignore the beasts in the room,” he said, sweeping a single drip of sweat from his forehead. My gaze lingered a moment longer and he repeated, “Ignore the beasts in the room!”

I had been in and out of sleep within the darkest throes of the night. My eyes dipped into a strange world as a dolphin dips into the cool air above the sea. They closed again and I was in a bedroom.

A balding, portly man fished through a case of dirty trinkets occasionally wiping his hands on his tattered t-shirt. Evidence of an earlier meal lay hidden from his sight under the curvature of his stomach. With each swish of his knobby fingers covered in hair through the brown leather case the high posts of the bed on which it sat shook like poplars in the wind. The eyes in the room watched me shift my weight as I stood waiting by the door. I ignored them.

“Aha! I found it.” The man exclaimed, thrusting something small and brown into his pocket. He slammed the case shut, turned the clasps and tossed it onto the floor by the night stand. He quickly pushed past me to get out of the room. Despair slipped off the chair in the corner blinking twice, my heart sank. A hairy fist seized my sleeve and pulled me from the room.

My eyes opened again, still dark, still cold, now 2am …writing down my dream. Why is it that dreams continue to play over and over again as you wake up from them? They elaborate upon themselves as you focus on details. Ignore the beasts in the room… I slip away.

The sound of fur moving and nails clicking on the hard wood floor followed me down the hallway. It was too dark to see the way so I kept close to the man. Click, click, click. In a moment I realize that I am alone and my bare feet are no longer on wood but sand. The sun begins to rise.

The sun begins to rise.

The sun begins to rise casting an orange glow around my feet; the lapping waves are not cold on my toes. As I look in the new light, Despair is gone. The beasts surround me and feel like my long missed cocker spaniel as they gather close. They are warm. These are not the beasts in the room. These are not the familiar beasts I live with. These are the beasts that you must travel to, Comfort and Peace. They are gentle.

The beasts were in my room. Despair sat on the edge of my bed with a quizzical look upon his wrinkled and haggard face. I did not fear him as he had grown accustomed. I rolled over.

The man was there again, it was a new room, he handed me a tiny, brown pull-knob for a cabinet. Twisting the knob onto a screw, I pull letting the light in…

I step out of bed. There are no beasts in the room. Despair is gone and all that is left is to explore the places near and far to find Comfort and Peace.