a story in progress

Last night I had a dream. It was so vivid that I remember it even now. It is rare that a dream should ever be remembered so clearly, each and every detail of it, drawn in a way as intricate as an artist could never possibly have done.

That dream reminds me of something that I have promised to do long ago but yet. It symbolizes the unconscious self within myself, telling me that there are quite a number of things that I have once wanted, but no longer needed, that there are things I have once despised, but now longed and yearned for.

It left me staring at the ceiling, lost in thoughts; the only few weak interruptions were the whispers of the cold night wind brought and the occasionally the hustle of the urban life. I seemed to have loved that feeling, even gotten used to it - that feeling of being alone on an island and forgetting what it is like to have a place to call home – a safe haven.

I have forgotten many things along the way to achieve what I have right now. It may be safe to say even that I have lost many things, beautiful ones, to be able to enjoy the beautiful different ones that I have now.

I guess love, beauty and hatred is ironic. You do not possess the right to love, yet you feel it, you do not have beauty and it is given, but you show it, and you don't need telling that you can hate something and still love it dearly.