Getting books in a dream

I've been dreaming a lot lately, don't know why. I think it's my disturbed sleep habits. I'd like to tell you about the one I had last night and I woke up happy not knowing why before I remembered the dream.
An -imaginary- writer gave me books he bought for me from a bookfair, they were -imaginary- books I was looking for and his -imaginary- published books along with some notebooks.
I think I sat on the floor checking everything and I was telling my sister that one of the books I just found out about that day itself and... It wasn't romantic in any way, the writer must have been just a little younger than my dad and the joy those books brought me in the dream was immense.

May you have better dreams and a better reality.
Noor

Chuck Palahniuk, Choke

“The unreal is more powerful than the real. Because nothing is as perfect as you can imagine it. Because its only intangible ideas, concepts, beliefs, fantasies that last. Stone crumbles. Wood rots. People, well, they die. But things as fragile as a thought, a dream, a legend, they can go on and on. If you can change the way people think. The way they see themselves. The way they see the world. You can change the way people live their lives. That's the only lasting thing you can create.”
― Chuck Palahniuk, Choke

What surrounds us

Walls were supposed to be protective, from the world outside. When it got stormy, you were safe from the harsh wind because of these walls. We make walls poetic because they surround you all the time.
You long for freedom. You go for a walk and we see the walls, and suddenly, it's oppressive.

These walls are limiting, preventing us from seeing the world. We can't be dwelling in endless comfort anymore, they can't keep imposing these walls on us. The 4 walls of our rooms are more than enough.
Skies are withheld from our sight, imagine our view was the sky while we lie awake thinking of our problems at the end of the day. How insignificant they would seem, how better our sleep would be, how small we would feel.

Walls shielding the vastness of the world from us and shielding us from the insignificance of ourselves. We need more of 'the great outdoors'. The immense sunshine and the total darkness. The two extremes we try to imitate by turning the lights on and off.
Are the walls to blame here or are we?

Frogs and Growth

The weirdest thing that happened today was that I saw a frog, a small one. I haven't seen one in years. It's practically a desert here, and even though we had a downpour a few days ago (I doubt it rained frogs, but you know... water) I keep thinking where could it have come from? I'm thinking the sews but I'm trying to push that thought away.
The life forms this place attracts (besides humans trying their best to get on with a life that revolves around studying) are mainly insects and more insects. Not much room for diversity but the insects like to proving otherwise with unexpected types showing up on your walls, invading your space and if you ever thought of checking your phone in the dark...they shall flutter to the screen and freak you out). I'm only trying to have you imagine what it's like to be here. And believe me, even though this place is packed...there's much room for self-growth. Seize the chance while life doesn't expect much from you...at least yet. No frogs to turn into princes, no responsibilities.

Lifetime occupation

"Why can't I just read books all the time?"
"You can't save lives doing that."
"Maybe I can save mine."

Roads

 

Can we say we're lost if we don't know the destination? If we don't know where we're heading but we're aware of the route we're taking. We're just not sure of where it'll take us, it could be to so many places. I always remember that episode of Timon &Pumbaa when they're travelling together and the road they're taking diverges into two roads. One with sunshine and trees and the other dark and creepy. They argue over which one to take, Timon chooses the one with light because he's afraid of the dark while Pumbaa chooses the dark one knowing that at the end of the dark road there must be light and you can't judge things by how they seem to be.

Not a really clear concept, and though Pumbaa is right in the end, his dark road turns out to be the better one you can't really choose based on what he did.

Somethings are clearly good and simple, others are just bad. However, one wonders. What if? What if the dark road you're on simply needed you to turn the light on? Cheesy as if may sound. What if you knew you were doing what you want to do, clearly aware of the reasons why you should be happy but you're not. All you need is something to spark a flame.

Darkness is merely the absence of light. It's nothing by itself.

If I were to choose a road, I'd probably camp on the diverging roads waiting for company. Any road is endurable with good company. Of course that means I'm indecisive (and that I am) but it also means I'm flexible. Put me in the water, I'll try to swim (though I don't know how), put me in the air, I'll try to fly (though I have no wings) and put me on a road, I'll walk (I have two legs).

So... hakuna matata!

In pursuit of the perfect book

Imagine standing in front of your piles and piles and piles of books and asking the one that will shake you to your core to step forward and declare itself so you can be changed forever. Amazingly enough, it does. And it's not what you asked for, it's everything. It's words filling the fibers of your heart, flowing through your veins, echoing in your ears and throbbing at your temples. Both an euphoria and a headache.

Dead ends you can't walk through and mountains you easily climb. Characters living in your head and haunting your soul. Words coming back to you while you try to sleep and scenes playing before your eyes as you try to have a conversation with a friend.

Stalling you and pushing you forward. Making you stop breathing just so you appreciate your next breath. Clinging to the hem of your dress as you tried to move on and daring you to read other books just to see you running back to its pages.

Wedding bells

It was my wedding today, and my sister's. We forgot all about it since the legal paper that was signed at court got tossed aside. We didn't think that day would ever come until a family member reminded us. But we never forgot, we knew it was today. We just surrendered to everyone else. They’ll tell us what to do, we’ve been listening ever since we were born so why not let them handle today fully? You don’t have to do much anyway, you don’t even have to smile at your wedding. If you looked scared that’s alright, it’s only appropriate to not want to part with your family. People looked down on brides who smiled too broadly, they had no shame.
My family pretended to forget too, they wanted us too numbed to have a say on how the wedding went. That was the easy part. I had a good night’s sleep yesterday. I put off all the worry to today, knowing it would unleash itself soon so I just waited. I had my usual breakfast and I washed the dishes. We have a saloon appointment. I casually mentioned I wanted to lift my hair this time. I've never lifted my hair for a party but if not as a bride then when?

The injustice of it all overwhelmed me then as blood rushed through my blood vessels so that my heart can pump to suit my feelings. Lifting my hair for my wedding. Who knew I’d be saying it? I thought maybe I’d first try it at my brother’s wedding but mine was first. I’m not sure whether the double wedding was a good idea or not. Do they want to get rid of us together? Or do they think we’ll help each other through today? I’m not sure, but I know we’ll be too far gone in our own little world to be of any help to ourselves much less to the other. My sister knew this too.
I started crying. Not all at once, a runny nose first then a single tear followed by an unstoppable flow.
Before we left, I went to talk to my dad. I asked him why did he put us in this situation when he knew we weren't ready yet. I must have said other things I can't remember because he sat there in front of me and he...started crying too. It was his emotions getting the better of him, making him admit to his hasty mistake. A mistake too profound to be undone, his pride and dignity would be lost if he backed out. Of course, it was pointless. I just knew I had to say it, maybe the confrontation would give me something to laugh about years from now.

I was too young, and so was my sister. We were engaged to sons of respectful families. I didn't know my fiance's age, job, likes and dislikes. I thought there'll be time to be introduced. I tried to use my dismissing way of thinking but the thoughts were too violent to allow their dismissal this easily. I succumbed, I fought the horror of images of him chewing out loud, demanding a cup of coffee I didn't know how he liked, him coming home to a burning rice pot, finding the shirt he wanted that morning wrinkled un-ironed, me standing listening to his fury and watching him realize my insignificance, that I had no sense of how to transform these rooms into a home, so unlike his mother. He feels an anger at my family for not teaching me how to decently fulfill my duties as a wife.

I saw it all, as vivid as a nightmare you just woke up from. It’s funny how you only remember the nightmares vividly but the good dreams vanish quickly. Another irony of life. I considered refusing to go to the wedding but I was technically already married. There was no escape, not one I saw then. With these ideas I sat in the saloon's chair. Ready to have hundreds of hair pins inserted and a blinding hair spray.

I began an endless prayer to my future, one that would go on inside of me till the day I died.

A Storm

I don't know when I noticed that my words lost their usual warmth, became wary and dull. My arms which used to be quick in comforting are now paralyzed. I lie on my bed all day. I feel something looming. As you feel a rainy day coming, clouds begin to gather in the sky without warning and the air suffocates you. You wait for the rain, it might clear the mess but it might also cause irreparable damage as well. There's just nothing you can do about it, you just have to weather the storm as best as you can.

I sit idly, I think of how I've changed. I think of cutting all ties with the world before I make a mistake I regret the rest of my life. Mistakes are inevitable but the ones I end up making are meaningless, they're not the grave kind that teaches you something and they're not the silly kind that makes you laugh over them later. If only you could choose the mistakes you make. I wonder if that would make me feel better, but I doubt it. I'm thinking my way out of having to seriously think about what I'm secretly most afraid of. I might lose this ability to feel, what if I stopped caring? What if I woke up one day and found no pity in me, no sympathy?

I think I hear something. It's the first droplets of rain finding their way to my window. I'll sit this one through and hope I survive intact. I'll wait for the sunshine, it's bound to come no matter how long the storm rages outside.

Silly little things

Braiding my hair has become a reflex of some sort. I braid the upper half first then join it with the rest to make it look neat. Otherwise my hair is a big mess. It’s all over the place, and that’s depressing. I take gotta-check-if-i-changed-into-a-green-monster mirror breaks while studying. It’s just an excuse to take a break. But so is the I’m-craving-a-hot-drink or i-need-to-put-a-face-mask-right-now. 

I wonder if I can be productive the way I wish I was. Write about anything, take a walk to just think, listen to myself, tidy that desk, start that book I always put off, surprise myself with something I wouldn’t usually do.

That’s life isn’t it? Doing the same silly things over and over again and calling them a personality.All you can do is make these silly little things a little better, a little less self-centered and hope they make you a better person.