again.
I couldn't sleep again. It's good that Michael can't sleep either. He always writes first, though. Unlike me, he is alone. Or so I think.
I see the same dream again and again. I call it a dream because it's not an absurd event generated by my brain for absolutely no reason. It's a memory put on nightly replay. The hospital where my father died. The same room. The same indifferent bright blue sky. The same people are talking some sympathetic nonsense. It sounds like gibberish because I can't remember a single word. I wasn't listening to anything but the sound of the flatline.
I cried at first. However, with each subsequent replay, it became increasingly easier for me to witness that moment. Now it feels like an old movie. I know every second of it, and I am sick of boredom. It's not devastating anymore. It's not even sad. It just exists in my memory, taking up space. However, it's a necessary part of my file system. Without it, I am not me. I can't delete it, and I don't want to anymore.
I let it exist. I am at peace with it. But it disrupts my sleep, and I can't bring myself back to much-needed rest.
Michael, on the other hand, sees his fears. He sees events that haven't happened yet, but he dreads even thinking about them. A failed test. His parents' disapproval. His father's disappointment.
Isn't it funny that we keep people who have already failed their lives in such high regard? To think of it, what authority or valuable experience do they have if they see a "New Game+" in us? We exist to make their dreams come true because their attempt has already failed, but we still have ours.
I want to ruin my life by myself. And so should Michael. Yet he believes that he can avoid the failure. This hope gives him nothing but anxiety and insomnia. As any other hope, actually.
I should get back to coding. Michael offers a round at CDS, but I am not in a mood to fry my brain. Or maybe I am, but I want to fry it in a different way.
This repetitive dream is a clue. I see it for a reason. And the answer is not in the dream itself—I despise esoteric idiocy. I need to understand why I keep seeing it, because desensitizing wasn't its ultimate goal.
What is it then?
What are you trying to say?
I promised to bring you into this world, and I will. Just give me a little bit more time.