A little too early

I'm having  nightmares last couple of days. I'm driving a car without a brakes, roaming through the wood road, screaming for someone to appears.  I googled dream interpretation  'drive' and  it says-unpleasant experience.  It happened last night again. 

It must have been connected with his appearance in my life. Again.

I guess.

He came so unexpected, bringing me some very  new dimension of himself. Or maybe I took a new dimension. I tried not to fall under his influence, appearance, smell, look. I tried to resist  - not letting him to drag me. I listened him speaking, waving his hand with ciggarette in it trying to explain me something (which I maybe didn't listened, beacause I was in some other movie-trying to take off his clothes along with his dubiety). I wish I could be a ciggarette you smoke, I thought. I wish you to suck me with every single smoke you inhale.

I was trying to reach him over that chain but I couldn't - law of physics didn't let me. I would fall. It would be funny. So close, but yet so far. The only thing I could do is just feel his smell. It wasn't enough. Being beside someone you can not touch or feel drives me crazy. Especially when that someone walked so quickly through your life leaving everything you desire. I 'm feeling like Hansel and Gretel collecting his crumbs, but I'm not sure where it will lead  me. Is it going to bring me somewhere? Or maybe I'm gonna wonder around like I did in my dream last night ending up in some kind of a dark hole in misty woods. 

I felt proud. I didn't answer on his hidden intentions. Maybe they were not hidden - maybe I just wanted them to be. Stupid female! 

We'll go no more a roving

I try to fall asleep without your presence, without you in my thoughts last night. I tried, I really did.

Oh, Gods know I tried.

I sought for you the moment I put my head on the pillow and tuck myself into the warm and soft sheets. It didn't took long for my heart to take control over my mind. Seconds.

Night - it always gets me somewhere I want to be, especially when he is laying next to me in his  20th century old apartment with gobelins, old books about mechanics and records. I look around, absorbing every single detail of it. The colors, carpenter shades and tiny threads and that blanket with huge rhomboid I always got my leg stuck into.  I get closer to you so you could hear me breathing, feel my warmness, my cold feet. You used to warmed them up. I tried to explain you that they're always cold.  Coldness. 

So, I was thinking there, trying to fall asleep, but it didn't work out. I was looking at your face trying to think, imagine - do anything but without you in it.  How could anyone just stare at somebody without thinking? I could look him for hours.  Observing.

Sometimes you would ignore my hand strolling around your body. You would turn around, just kissed me or start touching my hair.

"Are we going to sleep?", you asked me. I turned to the other side of the bed and fell asleep with my eyes open.

Wear it like a shell

I was sitting the other day and thinking about people's search for happiness. Is there any scientific evidence that man can  actually find it?

 Happiness.

 It’s sounds like a guide to the galaxy or something.  Once you find it, you are fullfilled, satisfied, nothing can spoil it. You become a carrier of the same. But, there is one thing I more into: how strong can be the will of the one to start all over again once he/she looses it? I was always fascinated by human power and will for resistance, for taking one step forward, or, in my case- back.

Past.

We are all, somehow connected to it. It persecute us when we’re not even aware.  Sometimes you find it in a face, song , fallen leaves , Autumn, November, placard in a city centre which hasn’t been still detached. It’s so hard to forget past, but it’s even harder to  resist to it (especially when past was sweeter than present).

“You spend your whole life stuck in the labyrinth, thinking how you'll escape one day, and how awesome it will be, and imagining that future keeps you going, but you never do it. You just use the future to escape the present.” John Green, Looking for Alaska

I am...

"Now and then you realize that all of them are constantly making a fool of you. But, you get used to it after a while." 

I paraphrased old friend of mine. She got married at her best age - the age you could conquer the whole world; got pregnant twice and now, her husband is cheating on her. She's OK with that. She told me few things 'every woman should know'. ( sounds like a headline from those chick magazines where they thought you how to behave in your unhappily marriage, what to wear or drink in front of your future husband, whether fart or not!)

"They are all the same. And, I can tell you 90 per cent of women are also the same. Every one of us was standing in front of the mirror and slapping herself in the face."

 I used to slap myself on the face now and then. It doesn't help. It doesn't even help when someone else does it. I turn Billie Holiday instead and feel sorry for myself.

We all did that right? I'll never forget what professor of mine told us girls once in high school:" You are perfect. He doesn't need to know you aren't. You will always have a smile on your face and behind the first corner cry as much as you can. In their eyes you will always be happy, beautiful, satisfied, successful. A lady." She is divorced.

Sounds like a Marilyn Monroe advice, but is this true? Can we show a little bit(much) of our emotions to men? I showed a little too much.

Lady.

Chakra

This morning, on my way to work I was passing by the old hotel in my town and noticed a middle age woman with her golden retriever waiting at the stoplight. Since I'm a fast walker, I slowly started approaching them. Woman  looked at the dog, lower her hand and told him:" Sit down!"  The dog looked at her so obediently,with such respect . He sat and  turned his back to the main street. I start searching for his innocence look. Then he put his tongue out of his mouth and look at me.

"I feel calm now", I thought.

 He looked like a small innocent child sitting down there. His golden fur was gleaming on a cold morning Sun. I gave him one more look before crossing the street. Those hairy creatures always elicits smile on my face and brighten up my day.

I left smiling, leaving the hairy one wagging his tale. 

Ballerina.

When I was younger I never knew what I wanted to be when I grow up. Actually, I think I was telling people that I want to be a doctor.  Nah! Maybe because I spend so much time in hospital when I was kid (the moment I walked through  the front door, I would show the nurse my back). In order to be good, I used to get those plastic injections.  I’m wondering why people don’t ask us now what we want to be when we grow up. I’m not a grown up yet. I don’t want to be.

When someone would ask me now what would be my future profession I would say:  a ballet dancer.  A ballerina who plays piano.   I’ve always been skinny and my fingers are long-you need that, right?  During the day I would attend my classes at some Russian ballet school with all those masculine men holding you and tossing you here and there. Of course, I would not be prima ballerina-I would be standing somewhere behind her in case she fell. (I’ve always been clumsy, maybe that’s the way I attend folklore instead). After the long day I would enjoy my piano lessons. Chopin and Tchaikovsky were always my favorite. Wagner, too. Oh, I would play Tristan and Isolde and made choreography for the same. Ballerina would dance and dance possessed with passion  dying to find out that that their love is immortal.

Little Tageselixier

Smell.

The only sense probably working properly in my entire body system. As much as I hate it, sometimes, it takes me back to something or somebody I forgot. Sometimes, I even made up new smells which could connect me with some events or people. It is even worse when some smells you adored back then, constantly persecutes you. Like that, night (or is it day..never mind) skin cream I bought last year. I bought it intentionally. It was packed in those small boxes you take for a short trip.

I took a short trip. Not because of the cream, but because of the person that skin cream is going to remind me of. I still keep it above my bed on a shelf. It's been empty for a while. It was empty the day I came back home. Sometimes I open it too. I think the smell  it's not fading at all.

Something in between

                                                                          

I've always been a good kid. Very good,but not always excellent grades, obedient,responsible,respectful. My parents never had a problem with me. Then I started partially living something people called: teenage years, crazy years. Kind of. Not fully. I guess I could blame my distorted perception of the world, my twisted universe ideas: what could have happened, what if I do that, this, and those kind of things. I've never gave in to a life completely. Then, something happened at the age of 20. I started living a life fully (according to my standards). Obviously, my parents couldn't cope with that. So they started here and there complaining about my behavior and style of life.  

On the other hand, I couldn’t understand them. I’ve never done something wrong in my life. Especially not something they could be ashamed of. Maybe they are the one to blame.

Last night I walked into a kitchen directly  from work. I took my clothes off, opened the fridge and  took a beer. As I started drinking it my father started yelling and screaming: "What's wrong with you?! Are you insane?! You're a totally drunkard, you didn't even ate! I didn't even have an answer on his criticism, and then I just answered: "I've already ate, dad!"

Then my mum appeared and just said:” Don’t pay attention, its full Moon tonight!”