Wednesday, March 23, 2011

A year and month to the day...

...the same dream, with the same intensity and the same sense of utter desolation.
I have just found out I'm dying of a disease that is slowly, but with great precision, vapourizing my insides. I am destined for death.
It is perpetually night in this dream, as I wander the hallways of this mansion that's supposed to be my home. There is no one here but me and two others - hired to be caretakers, but otherwise unrecognizable. They provide me with my basic needs - food, clean sheets and a kindly hello once in a while. Time is running out and I stumble from one room to the next, searching for a familiar face, someone who can hold me through the days I have left. But my body is continually weakening and getting progressively bent with each passing minute.
Like the first time, this dream too seemed to go on forever. I couldn't wake from it, I couldn't end the wandering. I found nothing, I just got weaker.
This time, it was too close to home. Just too close.