I went for a walk around campus, my feet crunching through snow.  I savoured the chill air, the heavy weight of my thick coat, the wind tugging at me.  The wooded trails were empty this time of year, giving me the solitude I craved.  I was tired of everyone having an opinion about who I should be, what I should do.  Hearing from them crammed my head full of noise.  Only in isolation did my own thoughts make sense.

            When I finally got back to my room, I shucked my outer layers and got ready for bed.  I lay down, staring at the ceiling, feeling adrift.  I struggled to get comfortable, my thoughts still racing.  I remembered how prayer used to help me focus and find peace.  I closed my eyes, concentrating on reconnecting with the divine.

            At some point it must have worked, as I was adrift in a dream.  I often know when I’m dreaming, there’s a sense of drifting in a haze that tells me I’m not awake.  The real world is crisper than my dreams, no matter how lucid they might be.  In this one, the background was blurred, but in front of me I could quite clearly see Angelina.  She was talking.

            “Sometimes friends hold the keys to the doors in our souls.”  She said cryptically.

            I woke up.  I couldn’t remember ever having had a dream where I could remember its conversations the next day.  Especially not word for word.  I rolled out of bed to get ready for class, and tried not to think about it.

<<Previous   Next>>

Advertisements