Where is your ticket?

There are days I am a human rollar coaster. People stand in line for the rush of the ride and that climbing feeling that lurches you forward. You get to the top and your breath is taken away. Somewhere towards the end you may start thinking of cotton candy or how much money you have for the rest of the day.
I am still there. Feeling the cold of the night, empty seats when the lights close there eyes in a syphany religously at the exact same time every night. Until now I have left out the "undream" section. This is where I am unseen. My seats are waiting to be loaded, the people being the fuel for my dreams. Exotic and quirky -"different," food for my creativity.
Freaks and geeks are my normal. Each thing that makes a person unique shows a bold move forward.
When a next day shines on my warm face and echoes no dreams (or any that I can clearly remember) I hold my breath. They come, I wait. When there are no dreams followed up by no visions I am the empty carcas of a rollar coaster. A coaster at night, one that is not in motion.
Void of life. People get what they want and move on. Sometimes people stay on for a few rides or even come back, screaming and laughing with tears streaming. When there is a new ride, one that is so thrilling it distracts the crowds and stimulates a whole new feeling, I am still there.
A smile decorates my face, my moodwear draws them in like the bearded lady, and from there on well, you tell me. The distorted mirrors show the real you. The bouncy pit after popcorn, hot dogs, and of coarse fried everything is life.
This "undream" phase is crucial. Quiet and empty, alone and the raw me. On these days I wear different shades of gray. On these days I quietly stroke the bearded lady's hand. We are all beautiful. The bearded lady looks in the distorted mirror and sees a supple face, a slendor body, and a honey-golden beauty. She needs those mirrors to survive.
When I see people unbuckle and unfold there bodies out my rollar coaster I feel it happening. Such an aching feeling sets in. Alone. Of coarse a new day hatches and there is a sticky faced child ready for a thrill or an inked teen with cotton candy hair. This is why I am a rollar coaster. These new faces sticky and painted, I love them all the same.
Today I have no fun steps for you to follow.
Today I say this "look in the mirror" -
What do you see?