I dreamed of being trapped between layers of deep water.
I am crawling up the walls of my mind but there is, of course, no escape. No quiet and no stillness.
Once again I remember how much I look forward to the end.
The only clarity I have is in my own unbelonging, a result of a lifetime of alienation and bafflement with the world. When I am myself I am at odds with the world. When I am making my best attempts at reconciliation with the world I no longer recognize myself. What I cannot understand in the world transforms into another wall. I am building walls like coral: old dreams and ways of being die, something new grows over the dead parts. But it’s always equally ineffective. The most I will ever be able to do is endure, survive. Joy and peace and eagerness and desire and love are beyond me.
What I cannot have in life I have in dreams instead. Dreams are my relief.
I dreamed for many years of living on a mountain, and now I am here. I have always known in my heart that it is my fate to die on a mountain.
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