Muted

A dream I had last night (March 18 2014). I knew I was at my grandmother’s house though parts of it had changed. Something had happened in our city, an ongoing crime wave that I was starting to become involved in. I knew I looked like me, but my personality was quieter and withdrawn. I was myself yet I showed less of my thoughts with the world.

I stood by the window peering out through the venetians that covered the glass at all hours of the day. I had childhood memories of this window always being open and exposed to the street. A simple scene lay before you as you looked out; a great open space with a large area of lawn and an old lemon tree bent at an unusual angle. Whereas my memories were of blues and greens, the scene that now lay before me spoke in shades of blue and grey. The skies now clouded cast unusual patterns on the land and created shadows where there hadn’t been any before.

I was looking for something, a moment to confirm my suspicions regarding the group of individuals that were at the centre of our state of panic. I wanted to see who they were yet I was afraid. Afraid that they would know I was watching them, that my actions might cause them to approach the house and that something might happen to force me out of my conservative lifestyle. At the same time I couldn’t pull myself away.

I jumped ahead of time. In the time between I knew that I had left my home to go to work and had now returned. On the kerb on my front verge in neat scripture were their words. I didn’t understand the language but found it beautiful. Fear surged through me as the horror of my own thoughts replaced my admiration.

I jumped ahead of time once again though this time by only a few minutes. I was on my knees scrubbing at the words on the kerb with a wooden scrubbing brush in my gloved hands and a bucket of soapy water at my side. A sense of urgency came over me. Whether it was because this text was akin to blasphemy or because I knew somehow these words spoke to me when they shouldn’t have, it didn’t matter. All I knew in this moment was the text on my kerb had to disappear from sight, before others knew our home had been marked.

I dove at the words with every fibre of my being but no matter how hard I scrubbed, even as they faded from the kerb side, they sat in my mind blazing behind every thought as bold as they had been just moments ago.

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About Kris

I've got a little bit to say about a lot of different things. Everything is changing everday, and everday I'm changing how I understand it all. This is what I share on here with you, a varying perspective on the events my life, after all I'm one in seven billion. At times I'm called weird, at times I'm called a geek, a lot of the time they call me trouble, but you can call me Kris.
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