Buried memories unearthed in my subconscious during my journeys of lost and unknown dreams in places and times unknown to me and of which I perceived only fragments of memory that I kept to myself.
Joys and sorrows dwelled in my heart, which knew no peace, and was constantly pierced by anguish and anxiety, as well as sorrowful memories full of resentment and regrets.
I woke up with the anguish of memories and the worries that clung to me like invisible chains.
And the clock struck ten past ten,
It seemed as though the bells had rung,
And the stillness around me revealed
How my anxieties and anguish were fleeting realities,
And though heavy, they could vanish into nothingness.
The sadness—or melancholy, as it may be defined by words—was like an endless abyss within my heart, and it was that very sadness which had carved deep wounds that continued to bleed and had never healed. Time, in the end, had not fulfilled its duty, and the oblivion of my pains and sufferings had not completed its task.
Lying in an inhospitable and unknown cemetery, I found myself in my solitude and in the most deafening silence.
The crimson mist hovered around like a spirit both present and dominant within that mysterious and twilight aura.
I felt how anguish mingled with my fears, as if, despite having lost everything, I would… I had doubted whether to descend further into the abyss of despair.
And as the wind enveloped me in its coldness and its silent softness, so, in the very same moment, it was as though I had found myself in a new reality, a new realm, unfamiliar to me.
If I were to find myself in the realm of lost, recovered, buried and unearthed memories, I would not know it—nor shall I ever—for my visions were like hallucinations, as if all of it were born of my own fantasies, my nocturnal nightmares, and my waking daydreams.
Lisa