Checking off my list.

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Time flies!

4,385 have already passed and I’m about to report what I’ve done with them.

Since it will deal with different topics I’ll do it in different posts because, who knows! the miscellaneous tags might attract a wide variety of readers.

I’ve slept; thoroughly!

My  siesta last Saturday lasted three hours. I was truly tired though, because I didn’t experience the side effects of oversleeping until today. How do I know? Well, Today was the first time I woke up from a dream I can fully remember and which left me with that deep feeling of despondency.

I’ve learnt to understand how my brain tells me when it’s been enough shutdown. My mind usually produces a dream I can follow as a movie and which arises situations where I am  unfairly treated, unloved or rejected.  Lots of fun, hu?

These dreams deeply affect me and it takes me hours and a steady effort to recover from them. Hideous but effective:  I never want to go back to sleep after one of those. However, there’s something much more interesting that happens. It doesn’t matter how much time has passed between one dream and the other, even years; the setting is always the same. It’s always an image of my street, but as it was when I was five or six years old. The woods that used to be at the end of the street is intact and the houses are those of my childhood. However, what it’s most extraordinary is the atmosphere. I recognise the place and the time not for the trees or the houses but for how I perceive the air and the light.

In my dream I’m usually in a house which I  locate two lots to the right of my house. Interesting enough, it was an empty lot in those days. That is a house that’s never been there but it’s always the same house: spacious, wet and ranch style. What happens inside varies but the result is always the same. I’m surprised by the novelty  feeling of being rejected or unfairly accused of something.

Enough for the oneiric.

We’ve had four astonishingly beautiful winter days in a row and I’ve indulged myself in the pleasure of having all the windows opened to let air and sunlight ride through the house and of  hanging out my laundry in plain daylight. Not the curtains though. I’m still hunging on the hope that my mum will change hers and pass me her old ones that are really cool.

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