Last night I went to bed at 4 in the morning, today I seem to be following the same route. Late night conversations about nothing get me tired but keep me going stubborn, perhaps on the lookout for a revelation that my dreams could probably never reach. Except they do, and often they do it better than any conversation at the crack of dawn.
When I was little, mom told me that once I'd grow up, I would be able to tell truth from untruth from anyone that would cross my path. More so, that people would uncover truths to me that they would hide from others. Thx mom. Frankly, that's not great, and it's not even a special gift, since at times you will find yourself in awkward situations having to choose between sticking with the true, or not so true, while being perfectly aware of the consequences, just to save someone's backside from being named and shamed. She also told me that if in my closer relationships I would be given truths in half measures (which "draga mea, se va intampla o data, sau chiar si de mai multe ori") I would have the instinctive ability to choose if I should know the truths from untruths, all a rather subconscious process, mind you. While it all sounds a bit like psychic mumbo-jumbo, a mommy's witchcraft doing, whenever I make the conscious choice of sticking with the untrue, and therefore the err, dreams come pulling my eyelids up to show me who's pulling my leg while I sleep. [Sleep talking then becomes a Beckettian tape which my Lady Dreams play in rewind to make me look quirky to whoever happens to hear me.] Then I wake up listening to those that celebrate a clear conscience, and this my friends, is a sign of a bad memory; but while that conscience belongs to them, memory belongs to me.
A ruffled mind makes a restless pillow.
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