I'm no good with symbols anymore. I used to know what my dreams were telling me, because absurd and unreal images that quietly manifest the subconsciousness speak more truthfully to me than the uncertain reassurances I tell myself in daytime, when I'm wide awake. And so three years ago I broke up with someone over a dream I had because it told me things that I tried to suppress, truths that I refused to face up to, and it played out for me clearly what I'd already known, deep down inside.
And now things are being played out again, but this time I don't understand any of it. I woke up with a start this morning when I realised what I was dreaming about - again. And then I fell asleep again and the lingering remnants of the ridiculous events that transpired in that dream kept floating around at the back of my head, and I remember the details as if it had taken place in real life. It shouldn't be unsettling, it should be just a dream, but a dream this vivid can never be "just a dream" to me, and it is unsettling because I woke up wanting what I had in that dream.
I've always wondered what it'd be like if dreams and reality switched places. Wouldn't be wonderful if my life, "real life", were just a nightmare and whenever I go to sleep I'm waking up from it and living my real life in my dreams? Such a lovely thought. Because when you have dreams that are as euphorically happy as the one I just had which keeps coming back as variations of the same theme, "real life" continues to pale in comparison.
Real life, in fact, will always pale in comparison.