My Dream

My Dream

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WpMetadataReadMatureComplete Wed, Apr 22, 2020<5 mins
I have to ask one thing, have you ever had a dream so vivid that it felt real and 2 to 3 months later you can still remember beautiful details? Believe it or not that is exactly what happens to me! I rarely have vivid dreams but when I do I can usually remember a few deals and don't usually want to share them, Why?, I don't know maybe it's because more often than not if it's a good dream, a part of me hopes and wishes that the next night I'll slip back to those same dreams because that day wasn't the best day and I just want escape, or if it's a bad dream or nightmare one of three thing will happen.( Which isn't so rare for me, I don't know why and I despise it ,but most dreams are not good dreams and are more vivid then the great ones.) All three might even happen I could Wake up in the middle of the night feeling like I'm being watched ( that's the most freighting one.) or I'll wake up and find my lf in tears and not know why. The last thing that's hard for me is when I find myself angry in a dream and I wake up crabby and am in that mood all day.
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A few months ago, I bought a mug with gold gilt. On sale. Not a gift either nor because of an occasion to remember by it. Just plain, pretty mug for 15PLN. I drank my coffee from it since. I spat loose tea leaves into it. It never felt particularly significant. An ordinary object. Only when I lost it, I realised its true value. I sat comfortably at my desk one evening. Looking at my phone, I reached to take my song-text notebook. Trivial situation. My clumsy fingers were unable to avoid the mug. They allowed it to topple over, to slip from the desktop. Even though I did not see the split-second occurrence, I felt the pressure of unease. My head painted the trajectory of the fall on its own, the shattering, spillage. The loss. For a millisecond I still had hope, that I would be able to catch the mug, that I would be able to avoid what was about to happen. But I knew I was headed for failure. I don't have any superpowers. I only scalded my fingers. I looked at the mug's new shape for a long while, at the shattered pieces. At the spilling liquid. Our adventure came to an end. Irrevocably. I won't be drinking coffee from it anymore, nor spit tea leaves into it. Well. I shouldn't be sad, it was just a regular mug, just like thousands of others. I grew to like it, it kept me company throughout hundreds of warm drinks. I lost it. I hate this feeling the most. In the moment when I am losing something, I stop in my tracks, I hold my breath. It is always a very intense moment. A short one, but one that gives me the tight unpleasant feeling in my stomach. The feeling of loss is always accompanied by hope. Silly and naïve. Making me believe so strongly, that I can make it. That I will still be able to catch the mug mid-flight. When the feeling is entering the body, crawling into me I realise, how important it was to me. Whether it's Nivan or a stupid mug with gold gilt.

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