I dreamt of you last night. It was a pleasant dream. We were holding hands while walking down the beach. Mountains embracing us, our eyes reflecting the ocean, the sun illuminating our shadows. When I woke up I was here. Here in this grey, desolate place. So full of tender life, so void of meaning and hope. I was back to just existing. Sleeping, cooking, reading, spending time with people I pretend to know. People I gladly would lay down my life for yet wouldn’t tell a single truth about myself.
It’s all a lie: “The future is mine. I can become something; I can change things for the better; my life will have meaning.” In truth, it is I who belong to the future. Created by a past I continuously change in my mind, living in a present I avoid, dreading the future that I know will suffocate my dreams. I am a spider caught in too big a web, unable to do anything but watch as I slowly rot from the inside; in the end I will be nothing but a shell with the stench of what once was life inside me.
I tell myself you can save me. I tell myself I, in return, can save you. That together we can get out of the web, that we can hide from the future, that in your embrace, I will find the meaning of life.
I’ve had my food. I’ve read less than I hoped to. I’ve talked to people I never saw. Time to sleep once more. Perhaps I will dream of you again. Hold your hand, embrace you, kiss you and perhaps, if I am lucky, go further. I just wish I knew – are you more than a dream?
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