Minutes had turned to hours before I was able to fall asleep, but these hours in my dark room were overshadowed by a certain feeling of longing. I shut my eyes and let sleep engulf me, trying to put an end to the feeling, the hours; but it was no end.
The feeling, it seems, had seeped into my sleep. Nevertheless, Morpheus did me a kindness: my longing was satisfied in an astonishing dream. And while the memory of the dream had faded fast just after I woke up, the satisfaction lasted nonetheless.
It is just a dream after all. But maybe its significance lies in its outcome.
Between bits of intense emotions lies a cold predominant feeling. It is quite impossible to determine its source or ascertain the cause of its existence, but it was there, growing, rising and momentarily seen through flashes of light induced by the little triggers. And now, it’s stronger than ever.
This feeling resembles a wall so high, blocking any attempt to touch and connect with what’s beyond it; and what’s beyond it, is everything… and nothing. Because maybe the wall doesn’t exist; it is not real save in your mind: you created it to make sense of this listless feeling.
Where you stand, on your side of the wall, there’s comfort; it is safe. However, the nocturnal air is anxious, and you’re thinking about the wall and what’s beyond it. The thoughts, they turn your comfort into restlessness, they yield a new lone thought: the answer lies in climbing the wall. It would be risky, not always comfortable, but it would also make you feel alive. So you climb the wall and hope for the best.
The wall may not be real but the climb is. The climb is real. And it is, in a sense, a path to new opportunities, good and bad, to everything.