I've been having strange dreams of late. Which is all the more strange because I usually don't dream unless I'm awake.
The first one, for example, involved me as a teacher in a post-war situation. Traces of fire, smoke billowing amidst the smell of iron and dilapidated buildings everywhere. A few random people I know were also present, but here we were acting like good friends, whereas in real life most of us don't even talk to each other. We were all teaching together in a small, unfinished enclosure made of four poorly constructed walls and a wooden roof; and at night, we all slept right there, huddled together in sleeping bags for warmth. I remember thinking how it was a blessing in disguise the way the war had brought us all together. Even amidst that torturous environment, I felt quite happy and comforted.
The second one was no less bizarre, although I suppose I could trace it back to surrendering my insomniac self to Grey's Anatomy reruns. (Yes. I was desperate.)
I was working somewhere, in a hospital or something. I'm not quite sure what my designation was, but I think I was in scrubs. There was another girl with me who I know from real life--she was a close acquaintance when we were children, and though we attended all the same institutions, we were never proper friends. Also, as far as I know, her ambitions stray far from medical school. But there she was in the dream, also in scrubs, giving me an impatient look as I hurriedly pulled on my converse.
I don't remember actually doing anything, just walking with her around the wherever-we-were. At the end of the dream--which was supposedly a day of accomplishments--said woman and I had a heart-to-heart, where she ended up giving me really good advice regarding something. Problem is, I have no idea what she said, or even what I asked.
This is why I prefer daydreaming to actual dreams. The way these minions make you feel still remains even once you've awakened. Now that I'm perceiving reality again, I can't help but think of this girl and wish I'd still been friends with her. I mean, we grew up together. We've been to each other's houses, carpooled, done assignments, even shared a few secrets and fights. I know the things she likes; music, TV shows, food, even, to an extent. I know the different faces she makes--the way she scrunches up her face when she's focused, the way she leans to one side when she's being sarcastic--do I sound creepy. Okay. Sorry.
But you get the point.
And yet, here we are, completely nonexistent in each other's worlds. (Besides Facebook newsfeeds, perhaps.)
Naturally, I searched her up on Facebook and looked at a picture or two of hers. Just to see how she was doing.
In one, her face was scrunched up the exact same way it used to be all those years ago when we'd play together. And it just hit me. How she's still, apparently, the same girl I knew. And that just made me feel so affectionate, for some reason.
But it also made me feel kinda sad. The fact that we could have accommodated ourselves in each others' worlds, but didn't, because we were too busy trying to find ourselves.
What's even sadder, though, is that I understand why things unfolded the way they did. We were destined to grow apart.
Has anyone else been through this?
The first one, for example, involved me as a teacher in a post-war situation. Traces of fire, smoke billowing amidst the smell of iron and dilapidated buildings everywhere. A few random people I know were also present, but here we were acting like good friends, whereas in real life most of us don't even talk to each other. We were all teaching together in a small, unfinished enclosure made of four poorly constructed walls and a wooden roof; and at night, we all slept right there, huddled together in sleeping bags for warmth. I remember thinking how it was a blessing in disguise the way the war had brought us all together. Even amidst that torturous environment, I felt quite happy and comforted.
The second one was no less bizarre, although I suppose I could trace it back to surrendering my insomniac self to Grey's Anatomy reruns. (Yes. I was desperate.)
I was working somewhere, in a hospital or something. I'm not quite sure what my designation was, but I think I was in scrubs. There was another girl with me who I know from real life--she was a close acquaintance when we were children, and though we attended all the same institutions, we were never proper friends. Also, as far as I know, her ambitions stray far from medical school. But there she was in the dream, also in scrubs, giving me an impatient look as I hurriedly pulled on my converse.
I don't remember actually doing anything, just walking with her around the wherever-we-were. At the end of the dream--which was supposedly a day of accomplishments--said woman and I had a heart-to-heart, where she ended up giving me really good advice regarding something. Problem is, I have no idea what she said, or even what I asked.
This is why I prefer daydreaming to actual dreams. The way these minions make you feel still remains even once you've awakened. Now that I'm perceiving reality again, I can't help but think of this girl and wish I'd still been friends with her. I mean, we grew up together. We've been to each other's houses, carpooled, done assignments, even shared a few secrets and fights. I know the things she likes; music, TV shows, food, even, to an extent. I know the different faces she makes--the way she scrunches up her face when she's focused, the way she leans to one side when she's being sarcastic--do I sound creepy. Okay. Sorry.
But you get the point.
And yet, here we are, completely nonexistent in each other's worlds. (Besides Facebook newsfeeds, perhaps.)
Naturally, I searched her up on Facebook and looked at a picture or two of hers. Just to see how she was doing.
In one, her face was scrunched up the exact same way it used to be all those years ago when we'd play together. And it just hit me. How she's still, apparently, the same girl I knew. And that just made me feel so affectionate, for some reason.
But it also made me feel kinda sad. The fact that we could have accommodated ourselves in each others' worlds, but didn't, because we were too busy trying to find ourselves.
What's even sadder, though, is that I understand why things unfolded the way they did. We were destined to grow apart.
Has anyone else been through this?
