You have a dream. It is a good one. But then you wake up, sad about something you can’t quite put your finger on. You can’t remember the details, or even what made it so good, but the sadness is a special kind of personal.
It’s the kind of personal sadness that reminds you of all the friends you’ve hand and lost. All those people you knew so well once upon a time that drifted away. They’re off on their own paths, just as you’re on yours now.
Sometimes you wonder if they think about you like you think about them. But that’s a pointless thought; you just woke up from a dream and don’t know why you’re sad.
It was a good dream.
It doesn’t make sense that something good would make you sad like this.
But here you sit, just on the edge of your bed, or sofa, or wherever, barely able to hold yourself together. It’s hard. It’s like everything around you is pointless because of something you used to know--if only you could remember, you wouldn’t be so sad anymore.
But what is it?
There’s more to it than just sadness. There’s a longing to it as well, almost like there’s something missing. Something vital, something so close to your core, that without it you’re at a loss for everything. Life just doesn’t have color anymore, not since you’ve woken up.
But what is it?
There’s more to it than just sadness. There’s a strange barrier between you and where you call home. It’s almost like you’re in a completely different place. It’s not just the laundry on the floor or the dirty dishes in the sink--there’s a leviathan gravitas to it. You’ve awoken an alien to your own home.
But what is it?
There’s more to it than just sadness.
There’s more to it than just longing.
There’s more to it than being alienated.
Looking down at your hands--those you know so well, every crease and fold--you’re not you anymore. This body of flesh and bone is heavier than you’ve ever known it to be. And you know if you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, it will terrify you. It’s like you’re looking through a stranger’s eyes, a porthole to a place that’s familiar, but wrong. It’s like your body lost its connection to what was inside.
It lost its link to you.
You’re not you anymore. The dream you know was so good didn’t take your identity, no, it reminded. It reminded you how life used to be when things were good. When things weren’t this hard. The dream reminded you of what life could be and cast everything it is now into shadow.
You didn’t lose anything in the dream. You got a glimpse of a dear friend, someone you knew better than anybody else in the world. A person you called friend, confidant, and love. They’re gone now, but that one glance reminded you who you used to have, but lost.
Sitting on the edge of your bed, or sofa, or whatever, you’re not able to hold yourself together anymore. It’s impossible. You just remembered who that person in the dream was.
It was you.