Bookmark #825

I woke up on the indifferent side of the bed and could not care about anything for the first few hours. Tried to make a cup of coffee and stand outside staring at the hills. It tempered the aloofness slightly, but not by a large margin. To expect the coldness of the world to cut the coldness of the heart is foolish, after all. This frostbite of the heart is not new, and I have dealt with this before. With a little sun and a couple of reluctant acts of kindness, my heart will thaw again. It is unfortunate but all of us have sides to us we would rather not show someone else. At least, I have a confidant in these words. I reckon I could never be as honest with a person than I am with these words. And even here, I exaggerate sometimes.

I dreamt last night of things that have not happened yet. No mysticism, no, and no premonition or hullabaloo like that. It was fear, simply fear, of the little things that weigh on our minds in the breadth of the general day. When I woke up to check the messages and, more importantly, the date, I realised that, as always, my mind had gotten the better of me. There was still time. Today, once again, I shall ensure the fears do not come to pass. I reckon it has always happened in this order: action has followed the dream; the dream has, in turn, followed the fear. The facade of this life is an illusion. I am simply a man acting out of haste, patiently. Most things I have feared, however, have not come to pass. The few that did do not count in the grand statistics of this life. And most things that have come to pass, I did not know to fear for.

But we fix what we can fix, and we avoid what we know to avoid; the rest is the rest, and we cannot do much about it. Sometimes, I wish I could tell someone about my fears. They say it makes them smaller. I have not had the opportunity to experience it yet.

Ah, the sun has begun to paint the town golden now. I reckon this is the difference. In my dreams, there is light, but it is artificial. It is not warm. It is barely yellow, almost like some halogen light buzzing at the top of the world. There is no hope in it. This is what tells me I am dreaming.