The walls walk past me as I go to breakfast. I feel immobile, the world is turning around me, and I am somehow, magically, drifting. Muesli, 3 scoops, get spoon, pour milk, sit, eat; same daily routine. How I wish I could convince myself that I didn’t want that many calories at that time in the morning. Just before falling asleep I vow to sleep through the torture, I vow I will not move from my slumber… but I wake up at 7.30am even when I only manage to sleep at 3am. Then, in a moment, I am transported to the dining room, and the Queen’s red apples stare at me. I have no desire to fall for her wicked tricks. The bread teases me by the toasters. Sometimes I will be strong and withstand, sometimes I will be unbreakable and only take 2 or 1 (1!) scoop of muesli. Other times the bread will frustrate me into ripping it apart with my teeth; an angry savage beast.
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Yesterday evening the sky was dusted with glitter. Crowds gathered with sparklers and watched in awe the displays of the sky. From behind the glass pane that held me together, I watched these mystical celebrations; daring not venture outside and join them. I couldn’t have gone anyway. It doesn’t really matter. I would have zipped up my boots, swung a scarf around my too short a neck and then, heading to twist the golden doorknob, would have found myself before her. I am told that the world is too uncertain, that dangers lurk in every shadow, in any unexpected desire. Turn around, retreat. In times of total isolation in the comforting den, I need echoes: signs that I am not alone. I know I am one of thousands, millions, but I need confirmation; written echoes, sung echoes, echoes. You can be alone in your room and feel among friends.
.
Last night my head decided that I would not be permitted to sleep until 3.30am. I was hit by a frenzy of Croatian words, the urge to work, the need to succeed. I will not fail my expectations. I can always imagine a cardboard star strung to my ceiling, and I try to jump and reach my reward. Yet it is always slightly out of range and so, as to rescue it before it falls down, I took to jumping as if on trampoline in the early hours of the morning: Croatian article- read, Croatian essay- written, Croatian text – translated. My brain was spinning and it was not ready to rest… and I have to take these opportunities to leap when they are given to me, because I never know how many evenings it will take until another chance will shine above my head.
.
In my dreams, the dreams that come to me in my sleep- not my wishes that surround my daily – I see her. Not Vesna, but another enchanting vision that guides me through the mist. She remains unknown to me, but I have met her once. And that one impression has hung itself above the mantelpiece of my memory: such a soft face, such caring eyes, those words. I found another treasure, and my sleep is telling me to chase it. In reality she is my future Specialist Practitioner… in the dreams she is a friend, hope. Funny, how someone can make such an impression after such a limited length of time. I think that shows you just how special they are.
.
Yesterday evening the sky was dusted with glitter. Crowds gathered with sparklers and watched in awe the displays of the sky. From behind the glass pane that held me together, I watched these mystical celebrations; daring not venture outside and join them. I couldn’t have gone anyway. It doesn’t really matter. I would have zipped up my boots, swung a scarf around my too short a neck and then, heading to twist the golden doorknob, would have found myself before her. I am told that the world is too uncertain, that dangers lurk in every shadow, in any unexpected desire. Turn around, retreat. In times of total isolation in the comforting den, I need echoes: signs that I am not alone. I know I am one of thousands, millions, but I need confirmation; written echoes, sung echoes, echoes. You can be alone in your room and feel among friends.
.
Last night my head decided that I would not be permitted to sleep until 3.30am. I was hit by a frenzy of Croatian words, the urge to work, the need to succeed. I will not fail my expectations. I can always imagine a cardboard star strung to my ceiling, and I try to jump and reach my reward. Yet it is always slightly out of range and so, as to rescue it before it falls down, I took to jumping as if on trampoline in the early hours of the morning: Croatian article- read, Croatian essay- written, Croatian text – translated. My brain was spinning and it was not ready to rest… and I have to take these opportunities to leap when they are given to me, because I never know how many evenings it will take until another chance will shine above my head.
.
In my dreams, the dreams that come to me in my sleep- not my wishes that surround my daily – I see her. Not Vesna, but another enchanting vision that guides me through the mist. She remains unknown to me, but I have met her once. And that one impression has hung itself above the mantelpiece of my memory: such a soft face, such caring eyes, those words. I found another treasure, and my sleep is telling me to chase it. In reality she is my future Specialist Practitioner… in the dreams she is a friend, hope. Funny, how someone can make such an impression after such a limited length of time. I think that shows you just how special they are.
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