Cyclical

by HelluvaGirl

I have come to know those tides now.

They rise. Time and again.

Each time in a different, more and more subdued way. Only a vibration of a deep underground explosion now.

I went on after that day. Persistently, as I do. Not assured I was right in flashing the axe and forcing myself to be smart. I never completely own that role, to be frank; not any more.

After a week or two, I turned around and noticed I was healing. Moving on, so to speak.

And I was glad.

That’s it, I said. That’s it. I never believed I could do it, and there I was. Waking up. Falling sound asleep.

But the tide… Nature’s got its thing.

Don’t reach out, don’t say a word to me. Don’t help me slip.

I don’t want to be down there again. One word and I’ll slip. Don’t.

And then…

When I was a kid, I often had nightmares. Within a dream, at the point of not being able to bear it any longer, I would somehow remember it was but a dream. Still asleep, I would then lift my hands, reach my eyes and tear them open. And I would wake up with my fingers on the eyelids.

That’s what I do.

How come now I wake up to the same dream time and again? Where is my way out of this matrix?

Those tides, they come. God, do they come.

I sometimes think…

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