For the past few days I’ve been dreaming. We all dream, so its the most natural thing, but the majority of the time we don’t remember them. I don’t remember my dreams, except for these last few days. They have been wild and crazy and beyond absurd. I’ll wake up and feel as if I’ve escaped the insanity of it all, and then while I’m doing some meaningless task my dream will return to me in all its disturbing glory.
I used to love to dream. I used to get such wonderful ideas from my subconcious. Now my mind is telling me that I’m upset, and I need to deal with it, or it won’t leave me alone. At least that’s what I hope it’s trying to tell me. Me, the mistress of calm and patience. It feels like I’m oozing anxiety from every pore.
And it’s not work, and it’s not me.
It’s just so difficult watching the people around you get hurt. Worse still if they face the possibility of becoming disabled. For me, I was born this way. I don’t know any other life than this. For them, it’s being taken away. It affects them and the people they love. I feel like I’m facing a ticking time-bomb that’s about to go off. Will it happen or won’t it? Life goes on regardless, but what a crappy thing to happen. And because it’s personal, it affects me more because I know what lies ahead.
I just hope this person gets better.
And my dreams stop.