In my head, perhaps in a dream- a half forgotten dream- I have written this a thousand times, and each time I put my hands to my keyboard, it feels like a dream half remembered. But I have not yet truly begun, on paper.
As dreams go, constantly written and unwritten, this one is undone and it remains to be seen what it may become. Regardless, my intention and realisation as I begin this is one: that this shall all end where it has begun. Perhaps in place, or pace or nature. Slowly, here and in sadness. There is no happiness in any end.
I woke up this morning with the greatest clarity of my dream last night. I dreamt a dream in which I was a little boy or I met a little boy. The little boy was me and I was him. But he was everyone too. Ultimately, he was noone. No one can be himself and everyone.
“They keep people in their lives because they do not want to be alone. But they are still alone.” he said to me. “You are alone.”
To be continued
