Assumption of Clarity

The sad rhythms and minor chords drifted across him. He sprawled across an already cluttered bed, not heeding the Led Zeppelin cd digging into his side. He dreamt and through the fog of sleep he saw clearly.
A white sky at night, the irony was tangible. The snow fell lazily, unconcerned about the grey affair beneath it. Strung out and in love, they lay on the hood of his car, opening mouths for snowflakes. The blanketing quiet of the snow lay across the world, and the moment was so still that it seemed to transcend the barrier between the mental and real. As the image faded, the headlights of the car shone into the snowy dark, a warm light in the winter chill. And, as a book read in reverse, his life began to make less sense, decisions made without support.
He turned over onto his side, crushing the Led Zeppelin cd into the mattress. He began to doze again, and another image came. She walked alone through an alleyway that looked like a tunnel. There was an open door at the end of it, and he had an invitation on his lips. The timing was wrong, and the invitation sailed past her ear in slow motion, and she walked on, into the dark.
Suddenly he knew what had gone wrong with his life all those years ago. He knew why the years between now and then had been filled with emptiness and grey. His life had been a movie so crass and awkwardly cast, that he could be a star. No one can be a star he realized, as they all went out above him, obscured by slowly falling snow. He walked for a while aimlessly, passing muffled shapes and hearing only the silence. He came upon a car, with a young couple obviously strung out and in love. He leaned down towards the man, whispered a phrase and walked on, the empty ache filled with glow. He was a beacon in the storm, one of three.