The After Hours

A time capsule revealed that we were the same yesterday, yet there is no yesterday in recent memory, A memory unlocks but once a year, and creeps out to join the humans, to be human for a day a memory once wished, and having wished so, became a dream of a human being, and woke to her own existence awake and alive in that moment, came the conundrum of humankind, what do you want to be? And never knew if she were still human, or simply the memory. A butterfly befriended her somewhere within, betwixt The Inbetween, he had once dreamed he was a man, and forever after could only waken to the life of a butterfly, having gone to bed a man. They would live forever, but memory was a scarce commodity in humanity, the last of it was used up to listen to one last song as they held hands pretending they were really at the beach, beach chairs set up in their one bedroom apartment, the television with a caribbean look about it for the past half hour. The last of the power before the ice age outside took over. In another time they are the same, a moment when she was the memory of a dream, another moment she was the memory of a dream a man once had, about a butterfly. At once she was the dream of themselves incarnate in the throws of a passionate love, locked in passionate embrace, himself there and yet still also his dream of such a love. But now they knew each other only hardly, or not at all, for each and every day memory wiped away all recollection of her one day among the humans. Dreams have no memory, and the man forgot to wonder if he were a man after all and not the butterfly. Only the butterfly remembered but short lives don’t beget long memories. The truth of their sacred and ancient tryst was passed down for generations, but the words twisted with each retelling and man forgot their language. It is said that there is a day that exists, like a door hovering in space, where the dream and the memory come alive in the now, there is but one day. The day may be sought, though it might not, when it arrives at the door, and steps in and takes over. This day can be visited but once, but this day never dies, and you can stay as long as you like. But be warned there is no memory through this door, when you rise you might never remember what sent you there, getting stuck in a circuitous memory.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s