i didn’t wake up instantly, i didn’t wake up at peace or quietly.
as i was waking up, i felt confused, i kept wondering: what is this? is this a good thing or a bad thing?
finally, it all came back to me. i remembered: god f-ing damn it. i’m still alive. yet another day of wondering why i keep dragging this on. yet another day of looking for something that could engage me for more than a single hour.
when i was a kid, i wanted to learn to lucid dream. but at every attempt, the only thing that my efforts would lead to, was waking up because of the excitement. i would just stand in my dream excited, asking myself: “what now, what would i want to do?”
but i never found an answer. i could never find anything i could want to do, either in a dream of endless possibility, or in the stable real world full of knowledge and opportunities.
these kinds of reactions of course couldn’t keep happening every time i fell asleep. so i developed, or perhaps rather, evolved a way of living through my dreams, knowing somewhere deep down that i’m dreaming, but shutting down all my reasoning skills, so that i would never overthink anything.
and now, these states, in my dreams, where i can feel like i exist, but i don’t actually think about it and wander around aimlessly, are the only ones, that i can bear, the only ones that keep me calm.