A Letter To The Sky

"On some days you wonder what it all means. And on some days you find out."

I'm now convinced I have my own personal raincloud. Every time I leave the house the heavens open. Every single time.

It was hot last night, and I slept fitfully but not badly. There's something almost enjoyable about waking up every few hours. It makes the night seem longer, more satisfying somehow. It's a pause between dreams, an intermission. These are the nights where I remember every thought, subconscious or otherwise.

I awoke for the third or fourth time just after three in the morning. I had the windows open and the curtains drawn as far back as they could go. Earlier, they had been still and lifeless, now they billowed in a wind that was just gathering its strength. It was raining steadily, and I moved to the window to look out, arriving just as a spectacular fork of lightning split the sky. The number of times I've directly witnessed lightning in my life barely reaches double figures, yet that was the second time in a week. I was awed.

The storm never really got going. There were a couple more flashes of lightning and one powerful grumble from the purple sea above, then nothing. The rain went on alone.

The humidity had returned by the time I woke up this morning. My skin was hot and clammy, and I felt dirty and tired. I'd obviously done some thrashing around in the night. The blankets were twisted around my legs, and my neck, shoulders, and back ached steadily. Still, I laughed a little as I forced myself out of bed. I don't often remember my dreams with any clarity, but the visions from this one were as lucid and intense as the day outside my window.

Out, then. Out to the usual pavement-pounding nightmare. To the job centre, to the places I've already applied, to places I will apply. The same conversations with the same people. Hard work, in more ways than one, but at least I'm doing something. At least I'm sleeping at night and dragging myself through each day. Sooner or later, it has to bear fruit.

I found two new vacancies I'll be applying for tomorrow, and I left my CV with the manager at Borehamwood cinema. I worked there several years ago, but it was under different management then. Still, I have a ton of experience. Here's hoping.

And then came the rain. I was in the middle of town, a good twenty-five minutes from home, and by the time I'd walked all the way back, I was soaked to the skin once again. Where last week's storm left me exhilarated, today I felt merely heavy and uncomfortable. The contrast, I suppose, is obvious.

I carried a dream with me today, though, and no amount of rain could wash it away. It played in my mind through every bland conversation and every step I had to take through weather that tried its hardest to break my mood. The sky can cry all it wants today. My smile is unshakeable.