… that aren’t mine.
I found them again, after a not so peaceful night of sleep and struggling for hours to wake up enough to pray without getting distracted by floating images and snippets of thoughts. Lying down on the floor, getting up to check something, lying down, jumping up to snatch a book from the stack on my bedside table. A book of prayers, usually not a thing of my taste, but there it was, a page of words fitting my state of mind. The wish to find truth instead of empty phrases, a life full of satifaction instead of smoke and mirrors promising simple solutions for the daily hassles.
Lying down, breathing, thinking and watching the thoughts fade away. Sitting up, feeling a bit more clarity than before. Touching the dark walls inside, gently trying to push myself a bit further. Asking for them to be broken to form a way for the light.
A step towards those images again, the ones I tend to forget, the ones that are not really mine. Well, partly they are fragments of movies and pictures I saw. Partly they are impressions I remember, of places I visited but forgot how to locate them again. But the concept, the concept is beyond the sum of them all. The big dream of which there are merely hints in all the fantasy movies and novels. Dreams as old as mankind, and so wide you can’t even paint all of it on the piece of sky you see. Dreams buried deep inside the desire of every part of this world. Hope. Colours. The taste of trust, freedom, friendship. The celebration of life. Like a dance, like running through crisp morning air with the sun warming your face, like feeling so light you could carry whoever needs some help – and still being able to fly.
So how to be part of making it a little more real?
How to be a fighter without destroying, but instead being a warrior of hope and strength and beauty to heal a little part of the world?
How to overcome the own hurts, the tiredness, the feeling of already carrying enough weight by struggling with the ordinary duties?
I want to feel real, but not this constructed reality – the real reality. The deeper life. The truth. I need to be reminded of this every day, I guess.
Because, yes, it is a fight. So remind me of these dreams that aren’t really mine.
… that aren’t mine.