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Reset Forty-Nine, Day Two Hundred Ninety
Mar. 11th, 2024 02:15 amDrip, drip, drip. Rain began falling late Sunday evening, and though it never got intense it fell persistently for more than three hours. Since then it has been intermittent, but never ceased for long. Mindful that this could be the last good rain of the season I am reluctant to miss any of it. The last of things we enjoy are always sad. I was sad about a lot of things Sunday, but not things that were gong away or things that were the last.
It was just sort of a floating sadness that attached itself to everything. Several times I woke with dream residues again, and though all the details were gone I knew the dreams had been about looking for things I couldn't find, including myself, including the dreams themselves. I slept and woke and slept and woke, and never found anything in either state. I'm beginning to suspect that there was nothing there to begin with, and all the searching was for naught.
There is likely to be more rain today, but probably not much. There are likely to be more dreams when I sleep, but unlikely to be more sense in them. Eventually I'll wake up again and eat something and pretend that it's real sustenance for real life, but I won't believe it. It won't even matter that I go on unravelling. The dreams make no sense because they are about a life that makes no sense. But as long as the beer tastes good, and the chocolate tastes good, why should it have to? Sense of that kind outclasses sense of that other kind. It's raining, and I've got a piece of chocolate cake. Until that's gone, to hell with despair.
It was just sort of a floating sadness that attached itself to everything. Several times I woke with dream residues again, and though all the details were gone I knew the dreams had been about looking for things I couldn't find, including myself, including the dreams themselves. I slept and woke and slept and woke, and never found anything in either state. I'm beginning to suspect that there was nothing there to begin with, and all the searching was for naught.
There is likely to be more rain today, but probably not much. There are likely to be more dreams when I sleep, but unlikely to be more sense in them. Eventually I'll wake up again and eat something and pretend that it's real sustenance for real life, but I won't believe it. It won't even matter that I go on unravelling. The dreams make no sense because they are about a life that makes no sense. But as long as the beer tastes good, and the chocolate tastes good, why should it have to? Sense of that kind outclasses sense of that other kind. It's raining, and I've got a piece of chocolate cake. Until that's gone, to hell with despair.
