I have a recurring dream. It's a dream that is more like a feeling than an actual narrative. It's a dream that perhaps I've lived before, sometime in high school and now I remember it some nights, or maybe I really made it up, I have no idea. I rather think though that it's a day I will live to see sometime, maybe a long time from now. I wonder if when I finally live the day that I've dreamt so many times, it I will die shortly after. Am I remembering the day the I will die, or is it just the melange of so many other memories and dreams, sliced together into one impressionistic morning.It's Tuesday morning. It is cold and raining outside, but I am inside, dressed warmly. I am not where I'm supposed to be, maybe I was supposed to be a t work, or at school, but instead, I am in an art gallery or a large open space with white walls. I have a packet of cigarettes in my pocket and the day is mine, to explore when the rain stops.
See? It's not so much a narrative as a feeling. I'm not crazy, I swear.
