Three years have gone by and they are still haunting me in my dreams – faces that want to be re-introduced, in places that assume different looks because they want to be re-lived.
They never stopped, my recurring dreams of packing suitcases and of being just minutes away from departure. One of those dreams I remember clearly, for I was not packing; I was staying behind, while all the rest were packing and going away. What pain…
They never stopped, my recurring dreams of packing suitcases and of being just minutes away from departure. One of those dreams I remember clearly, for I was not packing; I was staying behind, while all the rest were packing and going away. What pain…
I remember wandering in corridors, saying goodbyes. In other dreams I am always in a hurry. I am always running late. We are about to leave and I have not packed yet – how unusual for someone who has elevated packing in an art form. In another dream the scenery is bizarre – a hill and we have to carry our heavy suitcases up-hill.
My subconscious plays tricks on me. Feels unfulfilled. Wants to be given a second chance – to live and experience things differently, like in a film shoot: “One more time! The ending was not good!”
My subconscious plays tricks on me. Feels unfulfilled. Wants to be given a second chance – to live and experience things differently, like in a film shoot: “One more time! The ending was not good!”
