Night-time hasn’t been wasting into decay lately — I’ve been frequenting the deeper levels of dreams.
Entering one is like exploring the architecture of a long drawn out open space that is expansive and bottomless where all is intuitive and familiar. Each step brings forth the reality of a premonition I know by memory and it’s easy to tell the friends and the crooks from my subconscious even if the faces I recognize are few. But I am always running away. From what, I still can’t tell.
The themes from my nightly episodes are not aligned. I’ve dreamt about disentangling a snake from a tall tree, a neverending ride in a glass elevator to see a woman I highly dreaded in seeing, the fear of marriage, the desire to continue believing in romantic love, and of intricate clothes featuring patterns I am sure I have seen and subconsciously recorded from my day-to-day routine.
There aren’t any great big problems going on lately. Every year is destined with new landscapes, even amidst familiar terrain. Submerging into the new year with a new profession, I am finding my way around with a vow to become more resilient. I do not want to fulfill the stereotype of being a product of a generation that feels entitled to privileges, maybe because I want to earn something bigger even if I am small and even if I have been guilty of feeling entitled to things. My usual antics are outgrowing themselves but that is because there is much for me to outgrow at this age as I redefine and refine the shape of things around me.
I don’t feel like hanging out lately. It could be that I’ve been more tired or that I am reclining back into my own shell or that the fit of my shoes are too small. There is the fear of being boring but maybe I simply just don’t believe in doing the things I don’t want to do.
Standing under the guilt of solemn proclamations, I wonder if things will always be this flighty.