I’m ready for the winter. To be reborn with the first snowfall that covers the grass, awash in muffled serenity.
Time is measured in weeks, not by the cycle of day and night, and this makes everything pass at a blistering pace. The good weeks involve bacon breakfasts and people bringing me food and new projects and Magic nights. The bad ones involve battles with my old arch nemesis, acne, and his side-kick, scarring-on-my-fucking-nose.
I’ve been dealing with this overwhelming sense that anything can change. So much has left me feeling like there’s no certainty anymore. Maybe that’s why I’ve stopped dreaming. I have no idea what to expect from the future, and I don’t know if that scares me or gives me hope.
To stop myself from thinking about it too much, I distract with all the right things and few of the wrong ones. It’s a fragile form of stability. Some days, the strings, they don’t do enough.
I kind of enjoy uncertainty, up to a certain point I guess. I wouldn’t like it up to the point of having no food or shelter security for instance.
The ‘few of the wrong ones’ brought my mind round to the “smoke yer marijuanica” line of Adam Sandler’s that I just heard today.… Channuka being around the corner…
I feel this uncertainty all the time too. Even though I’m attached and have critters, I have shifting dreams full of strange people I don’t know instead of that one person I used to constantly care about. I even was an English person with an English accent in a dream recently. It’s like even I myself am a shifting person who I don’t know.
I do think to some extent everyone feels this though.… and I think parents must feel particularly at a loss when their children look to them for answers. But the great thing is that stuff that’s still immensely positive can still drop in unannounced. And it does.
Hah you know me so well.
Sounds like you’re trying (or wanting) to define yourself, and the dreams are subconsciously telling you this.
oops Chanukah