Lately my dreams have been like a circus, tossing shaking rings up and catching them midair while twirling, like a trapeze artist's hair, swinging vibrantly, like fire surrounding her head as she springs forward, like when you sit in the front row and the colors and patterns on their jumpsuits blur as they cartwheel and you catch a glimpse of a smile on their face, the colors on a clowns face blending into each other as he claps atop his head and skips about the ring that is the circus. I can control the fate of my dreams and reality is very much there although if asked, I could not name the location my body lays. However, I have a better memory in dreams. I remember the exact ring of the voice of a classmate in the 5th grade and his mother's name and I say it and I know it's absolutely right and true. When I awake I am temporarily reminded how intact my mind is. And these little things, are the things that'll burn before my phoenix eyes...to an air above this tent, I'll never smell...the purely vivid clouds ahead.