Nonexistance

Nonexistance

In the moisturizing dew of that very early morning in may, she stood admidst the blooming garden in front of her just finished painting; a canvas beholding the reflections, materialized in delicate colors, of her thoughts. A masterpiece, she whispered to herself, a framed mental exaltation in a broad palet, ranging from the deepest purple, through violet, the shades of blue to aquamarine, depicting, or better transcribing the rose boarded garden. Bequating the visionary works of Monet and Cezanne.
It took a lifetime as it seemed to compose her wishes, dreams and longings in this way, inspired by the lofty premises that surrounded her old decaying house; a shelter from the outside world. She noticed only shortly shadows were appearing, like grey-blueish spots suspending over the gras, which meant soon the vibrant sunlight will set the environment all around her on fire in abundancy.
She putted her hands on her hips and gazed through her now half closed eyes once again to her accomplishment in front. Fine, very fine she once more whispered. It soothend her, equal with the feeling when one after many efforts at last reaches an upper fulfillment, fysical and mental alike, which, as she knew is the privelage of a few; given to those solemn mortals that are capable of dealing with reality as it is, and instead a fighting it, sherishing these irriversable facts of existance and thus unveiling it by creativity and senses.

Opposite to usual around this time of day she didn't feel hungry at all; in general she was gifted with a good apetite, but as if provoked by the magic of this day, her only intention now was to prolong these wonderfull feelings that had dripped inside her vains and now like heroïne cruised her being. She turned around and just wittnesed the last almost transparant layer of fogg that, as a with a crafmanship composed veil, here and there highlighted the soil and as heralds of the now aproaching light of live, dragging away the last secrets of the vasnishing night. But with the sweet promis to return as soon as the sun will be absorbed by the horizon quested stars above the last sparkles of another day. A loomy feeling was taken possesion of her while she, with a bit lifted dress, lingered across the small path that connected her favorite spot with the house that, as a two dimensional entity in a undefinable single color, displayed itself straight ahead, inviting and embracing; all of a sudden appearing. Actualy a core of reality admidst a surrounding of fanthomable dreams.
She opened the still half shut frontdoor and a swamp of cool air enveloped her imidiately, an air as a fluicy, containing a slight scent of abandonacy, that is so characteristic of houses not frequently or already for a long time standing uninhabited. She entered the almost empty hallway, with blank white walls that once, long ago, should have been covered with a greenish paint, but now only the remains of the color was left, hardly noticable and all over it contained cracks. The cold damp air must have had it's influence on that.
A long corridor reached out in front of her, a slight breeze came upon her, as if somewhere deep in the house a giant breathing swirled the air outside as in an underground, when an approaching train pushes the air ahead towards the waiting people on the platforms.
Opening with a shreek the first door on the right she stepped into the room, or better space, she felt in best and headed without hesitation to the sofa, or what has been left of it, for it once was definate a sophisticated bench, but time spoiled it's appearance, for now leaving a rich wooden curved frame in Louis quinze style, the surface covered with bleached red velvet fabric, still containing the paterns of curvy, flowerlike objects, woven into it's texture. It took only minutes for she, on a unrippled tide of time floated into her inner consciousness; the realms of dreams....

In this deepness, this subterrean realms, the full testamony of memories and secured layers of existance, was unlocked, and the shoals thus composed allow themselves to throw the doors to subsconcious wide open. She will be spectator of this unveiled cabinets, whose content will pass by in front her eyes, vivid and lively....
Giant roses and lylacs in the spectre of the most unbelievable colors, as one could only imagine to exist in the firmament that arches far away exo solar beaches, swirled around her, accompagned by raising melodies, as never heard before. She was in it, it penetrated her dreamy existance. She wittnesed herself, multiple reflected in a crystal clear lake that surrounded her and reached to the horizons; time became meaningless and the music, crescending, with it's sweet sonority, touched that lake's surface, causing tiny waves that at the end tickled the shores in white and blue.
Walking across the embankments, covered with golden spots, like a shattered mirror, reflecting the light, she wrote down the melodies in scores, she wove a composition that will surpass all melodies written before, whilst the suns that set and raised drowned this world in colors of exquisite gold, sparkling white, luminous red, devine blue and vibrant green.
For the first time in her life, she didn't want to wake up, to cross the bridge to the life she left, to be thown into the forecast of mortality.
But alas, one moment her dream vagued, fledged, broke apart and through the cracks of this she woke up, left in her room again, trying to behold what she experienced, but in vain, as nature is, in it's cruelty, without pittyfullnes....
The room was alight, the full day had taken possesion of it, like a waterfall; of all of the innummerable rooms, corridors and stairways that were existing in this manor of life. She dizzled a little and raised from the sofa on which she remembered laid down eons of time go.
She stretched out, yawned and without contemplational moments, so common for her, headed to the frontdoor, still half open, opening it completely while the wind blew white papers, filled with the in haste written scores out.

Instead of the wonderfull garden she expected to see, only pitchblack universe stretched itself out, no dimensions, no beacons of recognition..... A freezing wind blew her in the face. She shivered and much troubled stepped foreward into the dark, only being aware of a slicky, velvet like soil beneath her feet, invisible.
She accelarated her speed of walking, more and more towards the light rectangular spot in front of her, as a solemn point of navigation, a beacon to fix on.

She uttered a scream, which immediately after stucked into her throat:
It was her canvas, but totaly white, as if it was never touched before....