Forgetting is bliss.
The dreams had haunted me every night.
Twisting and turning in the folds of nostalgia of something that had never been. It had caught hold the space at the back of my mind and refused to let go.
It would haunt me every night.
Running. Chased.
People from all directions,
Timeless,
No geographical boundaries defined them.
A concoction of my history and the illusionary.
Familiarity in the world of past dreams.
Waking up to a heart beating in panic. Bittersweet melanchony wetting my mouth.
The tears exist in the realm of my dreams.
Of Anguish? Fear?
No satisfaction in the physicality of grief.

16.12.2019