I've been here before. A night's dream has brought this familiarity forth and I can't help but ache with recognition. The smell of routine is potent in the air and like dust, it settles. But above everything else, I recall this feeling. The steady numbness and deliberate convenience weighs down on me like thick humidity and I find the perspiration insulting. Like wading through a deep fog, I struggle towards the light, broken in the distance.
I follow the dream into its wallowing depths, already knowing what I will find. I snag my foot on the regrets of yesterday and before I can catch my balance, I'm falling. The darkness is subtle, but I reach out with raw fingernails in the attempt to anchor myself to this world. Like a tide, fear pours over me, encapsulating me in its barren walls. Just then, I feel my body thud to the ground. I keep my eyes closed and breathe in a new scent. It's sweet and warm like melting honey and I can taste the freedom it offers. When I open my eyes, the light is blinding and scars itself to memory. I wince at its flagrant voice, and then welcome it, having missed its soothing whispers.
