Κυριακή 31 Ιανουαρίου 2010
Remember
Remember me when I am gone
Gone far away into the silent land;
When you can no longer hold me by the hand,
Nor I half turn to go yet turning stay
Remember me when no more day by day
You tell me of our future that you planned:
Only remember me; you understand
It will be late to councel then or pray.
Yet if you should forget me for a while
And afterwards remember, do not grieve:
For if the darkness and corruption leave
A vestige of the thoughts that once I had,
Better by far you should forget and smile
Than that you should remember and be sad.
by Christina Rossetti
Like a Child
Everyone wants to feel like a child once again. Once grown up, once aware of all the things you realize that as a child you weren't aware of, you miss your innocence, your purity as a kid.
Remember those days were you could sit in the sun with friends and do the silliest things and play the silliest games and don't think or don't care about anything? Remember those blissful moments were nothing could touch you...even if something bad happen life seemed to go on a lot smoother than it does now.
I love my knowledge. I love the fact that now I can look at something and does make sense to me, one way or another...but in a hidden, darker corner of my heart I would be a liar if I didn't admit how I miss this innocence I had as a child. When I could play for hours in the front yard and I could sing and dance without feeling self-conscious, when I could express myself just like I wanted to without getting criticised or scolded or even frowned upon. I miss thinking that the world was just a gigantic maze of goodness, with people who want to make it all better, with people who hate depravity and fight for their dreams and ideals. I miss looking at boys and not thinking "oh he wants to fuck me" but I miss thinking "oh my god! maybe he wants us to be boyfriend and girlfriend!"
What happened to those days? And why does everything matter in such a big unexplainable way now? Why can't I surpass my cynicism, that suspicion in every friend and in every man I meet? Why does it always have to be like I feel that someone either wants to take advantage of me, break my heart, cheat on me (either professionally or emotionally), and disappoint me somehow? Is it always going to be like that from now on? And how much do I value this sense of my knowledge now, knowing that from now onwards life's always going to be filled with feelings of corruption, betrayal, disappointment, numbness, compromise, guilt and an eternal sorrow and depression which it won't go away?!?
"To feel like a child,
And stare up at the sky,
To bang the clouds with your imagination
And tolerate no provocation.
To hold the sunbeams with closed eyes
And wear no disguise,
To grasp the flowery odours with your nostrils
And paint yourself a portrait of nature full of rainbows.
To lie at your back with worries locked in a chest,
To capture the sound of the chirping birds.
To let innocence shine at your smile,
To feel warm with no lies to hide.
When will this feeling come again,
Why must it have gone away before it ever begun..."
Can we undo all this awareness once we grow up, can we just be adults in the society we were taught to survive and still try to hold on to those glimpses of our "days in the sun"?! Can we keep the images of fairies, miracles and dreams alive in a dead world, where everyone seems to be harrying away, seems too busy to care or spare a second to appreciate natural, instinctive feelings?!
How can I go back to falling in love with life again...when life itself seems to be kicking me in the nuts without doing anything harmful or socially bad?
Why can't I be a child still in a grown-up's body, without feeling ashamed or wrong for it? Why can't I feel like a child again without taking everything so seriously?
Why do we have to take anything so seriously...is it just because we have to?
All I know is that I know nothing...the more I know the more I realize how little I know...how much more little I would like to know...how little I am...how little I would like to be once again...
Πέμπτη 28 Ιανουαρίου 2010
Wanting and not Having
Sad...
Yes...it is sad when you have loved someone at some point in your life and you could not express it, you could not look them in the eye, for numerous reasons, and say those words which by impulse they come natural to you.
“Looking back, I have this to regret, that too often when I loved, I did not say so.” - Anonymous
A very good "I want him/her but I can't have him/her" quote. Don't you just hate that feeling when it happens to you? Wanting someone you simply cannot have for one reason or another?!?
I hate that feeling. And everytime it happens to me I hate myself for feeling this way. I hate having the feeling of unrequited "love", of this unrequited longing of wanting someone so much, that you think you'll burst if something else, something better doesn't come along.
The thing is to stay positive and go on. Be an optimist, even when you're not feeling like one.
Believing in people, still, even though you have been hurt so much that you think you don't have the time, the energy and the psychological strength to get hurt again...to try again.
But that feeling...the "wanting and not having" feeling has to be eliminated.
"In order to receive, you must find inner satisfaction.
Attract what you want to attract."
This wanting has got to stop. This sharp pain you feel when you see someone, when you speak to someone you want to suffocate with words of love and abundance when your paths cross...this feeling has to be stopped.
A vile feeling...insatiable feeling! I keep thinking that I won't feel it again, and maybe, maybe this time it will be different and I won't belong in the category of "wanting-and-not-having"... but everytime it seems I'm becoming one of the oldest members of that category.
Call me crazy, call me whinny, call me what you will. I hate the "unrequited feeling".
So many poets, artists, songwriters etc were influenced by this feeling to create. But I bet you, the moment they were feeling that they wanted someone that they simply couldn't have, they hated the fact that besides all life's other injustices, this is the cruellest injustice being done to them, because in love nothing and no one is in control...its like a pendulum hanging in the universe this thing....called love.
I'm not here to talk about "love" though. I'm here to talk about "wanting and not having". And to ask why does it have to happen over and over again, and when is it going to be my turn to finally have what or whom I desire, and why can't he/she love me or see that light in my eyes, feel this sense of belonging to them when I'm with them or talk to them?
Unrequited feeling...wanting and not having....
Many will say..."Boooo, you're such a pessimist."
I really am not. Not really. I think deep down I'm more of a cynic and a romantic together, than I am a pessimist. And even if your "universe" attracts finally someone into your arms, a different person than you were planning in the first place, there' still going to be that feeling that, 'yes, ok, i got someone in my life, but I never got that someone, my someone'.
So, the question remains....why can't I, for once, just once, have the one "I can't have"? Why do I have to want the one I can't have?
You can't Lose what you Neve Had by Westlife
Yes...it is sad when you have loved someone at some point in your life and you could not express it, you could not look them in the eye, for numerous reasons, and say those words which by impulse they come natural to you.
“Looking back, I have this to regret, that too often when I loved, I did not say so.” - Anonymous
A very good "I want him/her but I can't have him/her" quote. Don't you just hate that feeling when it happens to you? Wanting someone you simply cannot have for one reason or another?!?
I hate that feeling. And everytime it happens to me I hate myself for feeling this way. I hate having the feeling of unrequited "love", of this unrequited longing of wanting someone so much, that you think you'll burst if something else, something better doesn't come along.
The thing is to stay positive and go on. Be an optimist, even when you're not feeling like one.
Believing in people, still, even though you have been hurt so much that you think you don't have the time, the energy and the psychological strength to get hurt again...to try again.
But that feeling...the "wanting and not having" feeling has to be eliminated.
"In order to receive, you must find inner satisfaction.
Attract what you want to attract."
This wanting has got to stop. This sharp pain you feel when you see someone, when you speak to someone you want to suffocate with words of love and abundance when your paths cross...this feeling has to be stopped.
A vile feeling...insatiable feeling! I keep thinking that I won't feel it again, and maybe, maybe this time it will be different and I won't belong in the category of "wanting-and-not-having"... but everytime it seems I'm becoming one of the oldest members of that category.
Call me crazy, call me whinny, call me what you will. I hate the "unrequited feeling".
So many poets, artists, songwriters etc were influenced by this feeling to create. But I bet you, the moment they were feeling that they wanted someone that they simply couldn't have, they hated the fact that besides all life's other injustices, this is the cruellest injustice being done to them, because in love nothing and no one is in control...its like a pendulum hanging in the universe this thing....called love.
I'm not here to talk about "love" though. I'm here to talk about "wanting and not having". And to ask why does it have to happen over and over again, and when is it going to be my turn to finally have what or whom I desire, and why can't he/she love me or see that light in my eyes, feel this sense of belonging to them when I'm with them or talk to them?
Unrequited feeling...wanting and not having....
Many will say..."Boooo, you're such a pessimist."
I really am not. Not really. I think deep down I'm more of a cynic and a romantic together, than I am a pessimist. And even if your "universe" attracts finally someone into your arms, a different person than you were planning in the first place, there' still going to be that feeling that, 'yes, ok, i got someone in my life, but I never got that someone, my someone'.
So, the question remains....why can't I, for once, just once, have the one "I can't have"? Why do I have to want the one I can't have?
You can't Lose what you Neve Had by Westlife
Πέμπτη 21 Ιανουαρίου 2010
Little Viennese Waltz
In Vienna there are ten little girls
a shoulder for death to cry on
and a forest of dried pigeons.
There is a fragment of tomorrow
in the museum of winter frost.
There is a thousand-windowed dance hall.
Ay, ay, ay, ay!
Take this close-mouthed waltz.
Little waltz, little waltz, little waltz,
of itself, of death, and of brandy
that dips its tail in the sea.
I love you, I love you, I love you,
with the armchair and the book of death
down the melancholy hallway,
in the iris's dark garret,
in our bed that was once the moon's bed,
and in that dance the turtle dreamed of.
Ay, ay, ay, ay!
Take this broken-waisted waltz
In Vienna there are four mirrors
in which your mouth and the echoes play.
There is a death for piano
that paints the little boys blue.
There are beggars on the roof.
There are fresh garlands of tears.
Aye, ay, ay, ay!
Take this waltz that dies in my arms.
Because I love you, I love you, my love,
in the attic where children play,
dreaming ancient lights of Hungary
through the noise, the balmy afternoon,
seeing sheep and irises of snow
through the dark silence of your forehead.
Ay, ay, ay ay!
Take this "I will always love you" waltz.
In Vienna I will dance with you
in a costume with a river's head.
See how the hyacinths line my banks!
I will leave my mouth between your legs,
my soul in photographs and lilies,
and in the dark wake of your footsteps,
my love, my love, I will have to leave
violin and grave, the waltzing ribbons.
~Frederico Garcia Lorca~
a shoulder for death to cry on
and a forest of dried pigeons.
There is a fragment of tomorrow
in the museum of winter frost.
There is a thousand-windowed dance hall.
Ay, ay, ay, ay!
Take this close-mouthed waltz.
Little waltz, little waltz, little waltz,
of itself, of death, and of brandy
that dips its tail in the sea.
I love you, I love you, I love you,
with the armchair and the book of death
down the melancholy hallway,
in the iris's dark garret,
in our bed that was once the moon's bed,
and in that dance the turtle dreamed of.
Ay, ay, ay, ay!
Take this broken-waisted waltz
In Vienna there are four mirrors
in which your mouth and the echoes play.
There is a death for piano
that paints the little boys blue.
There are beggars on the roof.
There are fresh garlands of tears.
Aye, ay, ay, ay!
Take this waltz that dies in my arms.
Because I love you, I love you, my love,
in the attic where children play,
dreaming ancient lights of Hungary
through the noise, the balmy afternoon,
seeing sheep and irises of snow
through the dark silence of your forehead.
Ay, ay, ay ay!
Take this "I will always love you" waltz.
In Vienna I will dance with you
in a costume with a river's head.
See how the hyacinths line my banks!
I will leave my mouth between your legs,
my soul in photographs and lilies,
and in the dark wake of your footsteps,
my love, my love, I will have to leave
violin and grave, the waltzing ribbons.
~Frederico Garcia Lorca~
Take this Waltz
Take This Waltz
(After Lorca)
Now in Vienna there are ten pretty women.
There's a shoulder where death comes to cry.
There's a lobby with nine hundred windows.
There's a tree where the doves go to die.
There's a piece that was torn from the morning,
and it hangs in the Gallery of Frost --
Ay, ay ay ay
Take this waltz, take this waltz,
take this waltz with the clamp on its jaws.
I want you, I want you, I want you
on a chair with a dead magazine.
In the cave at the tip of the lily,
in some hallway where love's never been.
On a bed where the moon has been sweating,
in a cry filled with footsteps and sand --
Ay, ay ay ay
Take this waltz, take this waltz,
take its broken waist in your hand.
This waltz, this waltz, this waltz, this waltz
with its very own breath
of brandy and death,
dragging its tail in the sea.
There's a concert hall in Vienna
where your mouth had a thousand reviews.
There's a bar where the boys have stopped talking,
they've been sentenced to death by the blues.
Ah, but who is it climbs to your picture
with a garland of freshly cut tears?
Ay, ay ay ay
Take this waltz, take this waltz,
take this waltz, it's been dying for years.
There's an attic where children are playing,
where I've got to lie down with you soon,
in a dream of Hungarian lanterns,
in the mist of some sweet afternoon.
And I'll see what you've chained to your sorrow,
all your sheep and your lilies of snow --
Ay, ay ay ay
Take this waltz, take this waltz
with its "I'll never forget you, you know!"
And I'll dance with you in Vienna,
I'll be wearing a river's disguise.
The hyacinth wild on my shoulder
my mouth on the dew of your thighs.
And I'll bury my soul in a scrapbook,
with the photographs there and the moss.
And I'll yield to the flood of your beauty,
my cheap violin and my cross.
And you'll carry me down on your dancing
to the pools that you lift on your wrist --
O my love, O my love
Take this waltz, take this waltz,
it's yours now. It's all that there is.
~Leonard Cohen~
(After Lorca)
Now in Vienna there are ten pretty women.
There's a shoulder where death comes to cry.
There's a lobby with nine hundred windows.
There's a tree where the doves go to die.
There's a piece that was torn from the morning,
and it hangs in the Gallery of Frost --
Ay, ay ay ay
Take this waltz, take this waltz,
take this waltz with the clamp on its jaws.
I want you, I want you, I want you
on a chair with a dead magazine.
In the cave at the tip of the lily,
in some hallway where love's never been.
On a bed where the moon has been sweating,
in a cry filled with footsteps and sand --
Ay, ay ay ay
Take this waltz, take this waltz,
take its broken waist in your hand.
This waltz, this waltz, this waltz, this waltz
with its very own breath
of brandy and death,
dragging its tail in the sea.
There's a concert hall in Vienna
where your mouth had a thousand reviews.
There's a bar where the boys have stopped talking,
they've been sentenced to death by the blues.
Ah, but who is it climbs to your picture
with a garland of freshly cut tears?
Ay, ay ay ay
Take this waltz, take this waltz,
take this waltz, it's been dying for years.
There's an attic where children are playing,
where I've got to lie down with you soon,
in a dream of Hungarian lanterns,
in the mist of some sweet afternoon.
And I'll see what you've chained to your sorrow,
all your sheep and your lilies of snow --
Ay, ay ay ay
Take this waltz, take this waltz
with its "I'll never forget you, you know!"
And I'll dance with you in Vienna,
I'll be wearing a river's disguise.
The hyacinth wild on my shoulder
my mouth on the dew of your thighs.
And I'll bury my soul in a scrapbook,
with the photographs there and the moss.
And I'll yield to the flood of your beauty,
my cheap violin and my cross.
And you'll carry me down on your dancing
to the pools that you lift on your wrist --
O my love, O my love
Take this waltz, take this waltz,
it's yours now. It's all that there is.
~Leonard Cohen~
Δευτέρα 4 Ιανουαρίου 2010
My Boy...
I had one of those dreams again last night. You know; those dreams that take your breath away once awoken and you wish you’d never woken up. One of those dreams, which even after you’re in the world of consciousness you still feel warm and tender and sweet, like some peaceful aura is still surrounding you. I’m sure that many women will relate to my dream; some others may not.
“I dreamed of love; it was night and I dreamed that I was staying at a cousin’s house out of town. The house was quiet and his housemates were all occupied either with online gaming and chatting or reading for next day’s classes. The serene atmosphere of the apartment was suddenly interrupted by the Landlord; one of those hard-core ladies, full of muscle and suspicion, she entered the apartment enquiring who had been visiting the apartment for the last couple of days. Of course that someone was referring to me, as no more tenants were allowed in the apartment. I remember my heart racing in the dream as I stumbled here and there in the apartment, pretending to be cleaning the space of the kitchen in silence, in a desperate effort to show obedience and good behaviour. I knew that that wouldn’t cut it, but still I scrubbed on. As soon as the lady left, the room filled with a large number of my cousin’s friends; among them was the unknown boy of my dreams who stole my heart. I hadn’t seen him before, but as soon as I walked into the room, I could see his wilful eyes, his wondering smile casting a shadow upon me, trying to “figure” me out. Me, a firm believer that there is not love at first sight, was caught! All of a sudden my dream changed pace, rhythm and tone. It became a chase. My cousin and all of his friends (boys and girls who were in the apartment with us) were on the run, to get away from that space, from the Landlord lady, to get away from “our lives”, I know not…the important thing is that we were on the run, for unknown reasons, but we were running. On our way we found solace on a bus which I can distinctly remember it would carry us out of town, to an old place of mine, where I used to stay long before I had met any of the people I was with. On the bus, I was sitting at the far back trying to calm my nerves out of all this tension, out of all this madness which did not make any sense to me, why we were the bad ones since we did not do anything wrong in the first place. It was then, through all my shaking and all my fear that something warm touched me; literally. It was the hand of that boy. He was sitting beside me, not saying anything, while everybody stared at us, and he put his hand in mine. He didn’t speak a word, but rather looked at me, smiled at me and then looked ahead. We stayed there for a long time till it was time we got off the bus, and be on the run again, to find that place. I remember the feeling; the feeling that everybody knew that what had developed within an hour between me and him, was something warm, it was something pure, sweet, something I hadn’t felt since I was a little girl. Such an innocent feeling for someone else, which touched me like nothing in the last few years. It was honest and true. We got off and everybody started running again. What I distinctly recall is that he even held my hand through numerous steps we had to climb, through fences and through crossroads and junctions. We were moving ahead of the group until we found ourselves in a big crossing. It happened that me and him crossed the junction first, whilst the others were held behind. He was getting tense as well, but he didn’t let go of my hand once. He lit up a cigarette; he’d offer me one before as well, but I refused. This time I did not. I could not. With all that running and chasing, I was feeling like my heart was going to pop out of my chest, I grabbed the cigarette and breathed the smoke in such passion that before I even let the smoky air come out of my lungs, he leaned over and kissed me. His grip now became tight, like he didn’t want to let me go as if not to lose me. The air I didn’t manage to exhale, I exhaled it in him, while he gave me his, in the most innocent, gentle kiss I had ever had in a dream. His warmth was now surrounding me. I was left speechless, breathless, scare-less. It was just a moment, and yet it felt like an eternity of time stretching in that single heartbeat. The rest of the group had now crossed the junction and having seen “our moment” they urged us to just keeping going, due to lack of time. We started running again until we got to another big junction trying to find our way through the night which by now has started to rain quite heavily. We tried to cross the junction, this time with a sudden encounter from a massive lorry that didn’t notice us in the dark and was heading towards us. Just before tragedy hit our group, we managed to make the man in the lorry notice us and stop, split seconds before an unwanted fatal accident occured. Still, the boy did not let go of me. This time, his hand was firm, tight and he grabbed my waist every chance he could, as if frightened that if he didn’t hold me, I would be left behind and be gone from him forever. No man in all my conscious life has ever offered me that sort of protection; like I was like an ancient piece of pearl, trying to save me from the harms of the outside world, trying to hold on to me like an invaluable treasure he could not afford to lose. After our encounter with the lorry driver, we managed to hop on to the right bus that would take us to the house we were all looking for; somewhere safe, quiet and peaceful, with no one to chase us anymore, and no one to define us with their rules and regulations. After a short drive, the house came in sight. The joy in everyone’s face was simply indescribable. Like we had reached our haven, our comfort, our protected area. We got off the bus and headed for the house. Just before I entered the house, since I had to be the first to go in, being the only one who had the keys to the house, I had to let go of his hand. Before I did, he softly whispered to me; “I’ll be right behind you.”, and then he smiled. I slowly moved away from him and tried the keys, letting everyone in one by one. He stayed behind. At this point I was not in the scene, but I could clearly see in my dream what went down. I saw that my boy stayed outside the house with another male from the group and they were talking really intensely. I remember that they were talking about me, about who was going to be in my bed that night. I remember my boy bragging that “since you’re the one she loves and you want to have her bed now that you’ve seen she’s all loved-up, I am not going to let you have her. If you want her, I want her too, and we’ll see in whose bed she’s going to end up tonight.” Even though myself was not present physically in the dream during this conversation, I knew what was said between them, I knew that all the sweet emotions that had carried me through so far, had now gone and they were replaced by feelings of anger, disappointment and betrayal. I refused to believe that my boy could see me as something to be won, like a prize to be had…Indeed I was a treasure, of the wrong kind though. Not the kind, that I want you because you fill in the gaps in my life that could never be filled, but a treasure of who will have the most glittering prize to show off to the rest of the world. And that’s when….my dad woke me up.
Now, I have to admit that I have been watching back to back episodes from Prison Break (it’s the first time I actually sat down to watch all seasons together) and all this chasing and running might be affected from this. But my boy is not. I was sad I woke up, since I didn’t get to see what would go down after that, which boy would end up winning me, if they’d win me at all. Obviously both boys considered me “worthy” enough to have me, but I knew that as soon as they did it would mostly be over for them, whilst for me the case was somewhat different; obviously from the last words of my boy I cared for another member of the group deeply, but as yet nothing had happened, and when the other guy saw me with my boy he obviously could not handle any form of competition, even if the prize did not interest him that much, he just had to have it. What I distinctly remember after the dream though, was that warmth, that feeling of my boy that he showed me with no questions asked as soon as he saw me when I had entered the room of the apartment. I remember that I miss that feeling, which I haven’t felt in my conscious world ever since I was in early junior high school years; that feeling that someone cares for me flawlessly, selflessly, with no agenda and no ulterior motives (i.e. sexual hunger, showing off etc), with nothing to gain from having me in his life, in his arms, in his bed. I remember that all those “pure” and “warm” feelings I had experienced in my dream, is all a mere illusion in the conscious world. Feelings like that are fleeting, I know it. And yet, my unconscious world seeks them, yearns for them and still believes that there are feelings like that somewhere out there. My unconscious still has hope for my boy…
“I dreamed of love; it was night and I dreamed that I was staying at a cousin’s house out of town. The house was quiet and his housemates were all occupied either with online gaming and chatting or reading for next day’s classes. The serene atmosphere of the apartment was suddenly interrupted by the Landlord; one of those hard-core ladies, full of muscle and suspicion, she entered the apartment enquiring who had been visiting the apartment for the last couple of days. Of course that someone was referring to me, as no more tenants were allowed in the apartment. I remember my heart racing in the dream as I stumbled here and there in the apartment, pretending to be cleaning the space of the kitchen in silence, in a desperate effort to show obedience and good behaviour. I knew that that wouldn’t cut it, but still I scrubbed on. As soon as the lady left, the room filled with a large number of my cousin’s friends; among them was the unknown boy of my dreams who stole my heart. I hadn’t seen him before, but as soon as I walked into the room, I could see his wilful eyes, his wondering smile casting a shadow upon me, trying to “figure” me out. Me, a firm believer that there is not love at first sight, was caught! All of a sudden my dream changed pace, rhythm and tone. It became a chase. My cousin and all of his friends (boys and girls who were in the apartment with us) were on the run, to get away from that space, from the Landlord lady, to get away from “our lives”, I know not…the important thing is that we were on the run, for unknown reasons, but we were running. On our way we found solace on a bus which I can distinctly remember it would carry us out of town, to an old place of mine, where I used to stay long before I had met any of the people I was with. On the bus, I was sitting at the far back trying to calm my nerves out of all this tension, out of all this madness which did not make any sense to me, why we were the bad ones since we did not do anything wrong in the first place. It was then, through all my shaking and all my fear that something warm touched me; literally. It was the hand of that boy. He was sitting beside me, not saying anything, while everybody stared at us, and he put his hand in mine. He didn’t speak a word, but rather looked at me, smiled at me and then looked ahead. We stayed there for a long time till it was time we got off the bus, and be on the run again, to find that place. I remember the feeling; the feeling that everybody knew that what had developed within an hour between me and him, was something warm, it was something pure, sweet, something I hadn’t felt since I was a little girl. Such an innocent feeling for someone else, which touched me like nothing in the last few years. It was honest and true. We got off and everybody started running again. What I distinctly recall is that he even held my hand through numerous steps we had to climb, through fences and through crossroads and junctions. We were moving ahead of the group until we found ourselves in a big crossing. It happened that me and him crossed the junction first, whilst the others were held behind. He was getting tense as well, but he didn’t let go of my hand once. He lit up a cigarette; he’d offer me one before as well, but I refused. This time I did not. I could not. With all that running and chasing, I was feeling like my heart was going to pop out of my chest, I grabbed the cigarette and breathed the smoke in such passion that before I even let the smoky air come out of my lungs, he leaned over and kissed me. His grip now became tight, like he didn’t want to let me go as if not to lose me. The air I didn’t manage to exhale, I exhaled it in him, while he gave me his, in the most innocent, gentle kiss I had ever had in a dream. His warmth was now surrounding me. I was left speechless, breathless, scare-less. It was just a moment, and yet it felt like an eternity of time stretching in that single heartbeat. The rest of the group had now crossed the junction and having seen “our moment” they urged us to just keeping going, due to lack of time. We started running again until we got to another big junction trying to find our way through the night which by now has started to rain quite heavily. We tried to cross the junction, this time with a sudden encounter from a massive lorry that didn’t notice us in the dark and was heading towards us. Just before tragedy hit our group, we managed to make the man in the lorry notice us and stop, split seconds before an unwanted fatal accident occured. Still, the boy did not let go of me. This time, his hand was firm, tight and he grabbed my waist every chance he could, as if frightened that if he didn’t hold me, I would be left behind and be gone from him forever. No man in all my conscious life has ever offered me that sort of protection; like I was like an ancient piece of pearl, trying to save me from the harms of the outside world, trying to hold on to me like an invaluable treasure he could not afford to lose. After our encounter with the lorry driver, we managed to hop on to the right bus that would take us to the house we were all looking for; somewhere safe, quiet and peaceful, with no one to chase us anymore, and no one to define us with their rules and regulations. After a short drive, the house came in sight. The joy in everyone’s face was simply indescribable. Like we had reached our haven, our comfort, our protected area. We got off the bus and headed for the house. Just before I entered the house, since I had to be the first to go in, being the only one who had the keys to the house, I had to let go of his hand. Before I did, he softly whispered to me; “I’ll be right behind you.”, and then he smiled. I slowly moved away from him and tried the keys, letting everyone in one by one. He stayed behind. At this point I was not in the scene, but I could clearly see in my dream what went down. I saw that my boy stayed outside the house with another male from the group and they were talking really intensely. I remember that they were talking about me, about who was going to be in my bed that night. I remember my boy bragging that “since you’re the one she loves and you want to have her bed now that you’ve seen she’s all loved-up, I am not going to let you have her. If you want her, I want her too, and we’ll see in whose bed she’s going to end up tonight.” Even though myself was not present physically in the dream during this conversation, I knew what was said between them, I knew that all the sweet emotions that had carried me through so far, had now gone and they were replaced by feelings of anger, disappointment and betrayal. I refused to believe that my boy could see me as something to be won, like a prize to be had…Indeed I was a treasure, of the wrong kind though. Not the kind, that I want you because you fill in the gaps in my life that could never be filled, but a treasure of who will have the most glittering prize to show off to the rest of the world. And that’s when….my dad woke me up.
Now, I have to admit that I have been watching back to back episodes from Prison Break (it’s the first time I actually sat down to watch all seasons together) and all this chasing and running might be affected from this. But my boy is not. I was sad I woke up, since I didn’t get to see what would go down after that, which boy would end up winning me, if they’d win me at all. Obviously both boys considered me “worthy” enough to have me, but I knew that as soon as they did it would mostly be over for them, whilst for me the case was somewhat different; obviously from the last words of my boy I cared for another member of the group deeply, but as yet nothing had happened, and when the other guy saw me with my boy he obviously could not handle any form of competition, even if the prize did not interest him that much, he just had to have it. What I distinctly remember after the dream though, was that warmth, that feeling of my boy that he showed me with no questions asked as soon as he saw me when I had entered the room of the apartment. I remember that I miss that feeling, which I haven’t felt in my conscious world ever since I was in early junior high school years; that feeling that someone cares for me flawlessly, selflessly, with no agenda and no ulterior motives (i.e. sexual hunger, showing off etc), with nothing to gain from having me in his life, in his arms, in his bed. I remember that all those “pure” and “warm” feelings I had experienced in my dream, is all a mere illusion in the conscious world. Feelings like that are fleeting, I know it. And yet, my unconscious world seeks them, yearns for them and still believes that there are feelings like that somewhere out there. My unconscious still has hope for my boy…
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