Bread and Dreams...

Here I am buying bread and eggs, trying to be normal. Trying, in fact, to be happy to be normal but struggling to get those dreams out of my head - those thoughts and yearnings for a different life - not an alternative life but a supplementary one, where I achieve satisfaction. Conversations that make me excited; writing and the thrill of expressing my thoughts; socialising with like-minded people and feeling a buzz from it; passion; affection, living essentially beyond the mundane, beyond the task of carer, grief counsellor, emotional battering ram, nurturer.

It was easier when those dreams weren't there. But they arrived this summer after 30 months of darkness. I'll hide them away again soon so I can simply be happy to give yet another lift, cook yet another dinner, clean yet another room, pay yet another overdue bill, read yet another arrears letter, listen to yet another problem, counsel yet another teenage trauma. That's my role in life isn't it? Those dreams offer nothing but pain. Better not to know a life beyond this, better not to even taste it. The dreams are fading now. Hopefully soon I'll be happy again with my lot.