Two nights ago I woke up at midnight from a nightmare. I was tired and collapsed into bed unusually early, and it appears like my brain had a lot to go through because it started conjuring a different reality fairly quickly.
I was in what I recognised as the very high Communist pre-fab where a past boyfriend used to live. When I went through it afterwards, I thought my mind chose the location because earlier in the day for a split second, right before the doors of the metro closed, I thought I saw him inside.
In my dream I entered the beat-down elevator and when I reached to press the button, I saw just two on the board. And before I could even decide what to do, the elevator began moving upwards.
"I have no idea where this thing is taking me", I thought and panicked. And in my panic I pressed the only possible option for downwards. And thankfully, my brain complied and the elevator changed direction, hit the ground floor, I opened the door and stormed out and out of my nightmare.
I don't normally dream but I have been dreaming persistently for the past few weeks, even though I don't remember most of it and what I remember in the morning, I forget soon after. But this one has been in my mind for two days and I ruminate.
It feels like I painfully disengage myself from the past and it costs me more of an anguish than I actually realise. Maybe I should just start writing things to get them off my chest and mind. To store them, give them to you, to whoever wants them. Here, carry them away. You can do that.