Our dreams are odd reconstructions of daily mishmash, and yet, I find them somewhat (really) intriguing to decipher.
We recall familiar faces and characters, and our subconscious selves tries to piece together constructs into semi-tangible entities to fill in the gaps of logic.
A few weeks back, I "had" this lady. I knew it was a dream because she carried no scent on her. We roamed the city, walked through parks, and even disturbed the owner of some temple nearby (it's a dream, don't ask too much). We flashed discomforting smiles as we scuttled from the last scene.
She made everything easy, and we were very comfortable around each other. I prodded her arm, she nudged me back, simple gestures of some form of coy endearment. Behind her bob cut, stood a bubbly, adventurous and whimsical lass.
I was still smitten by the time the low hum of the ceiling fan dragged me back into reality. I immediately tried to lull back sleep to find her again. A vain and naïve (filled with a hint of uneasiness) attempt to chase a fleeting image.
I wanted to dive back in not just to see her, but because I didn't know her. Not that face. In fact, I couldn't place her looks. I knew her personality, but not her appearance. She's made up, and I don't know her inception.
We recall familiar faces and characters, and our subconscious selves tries to piece together constructs into semi-tangible entities to fill in the gaps of logic.
A few weeks back, I "had" this lady. I knew it was a dream because she carried no scent on her. We roamed the city, walked through parks, and even disturbed the owner of some temple nearby (it's a dream, don't ask too much). We flashed discomforting smiles as we scuttled from the last scene.
She made everything easy, and we were very comfortable around each other. I prodded her arm, she nudged me back, simple gestures of some form of coy endearment. Behind her bob cut, stood a bubbly, adventurous and whimsical lass.
I was still smitten by the time the low hum of the ceiling fan dragged me back into reality. I immediately tried to lull back sleep to find her again. A vain and naïve (filled with a hint of uneasiness) attempt to chase a fleeting image.
I wanted to dive back in not just to see her, but because I didn't know her. Not that face. In fact, I couldn't place her looks. I knew her personality, but not her appearance. She's made up, and I don't know her inception.
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