I woke up from a dream in which an important message was imparted on me. But I could not remember what it was; I could see its trace fleeing as I opened my eyes, just a long, tapering shadow disappearing behind a corner of my mind.

Now I can’t stop thinking about it. All that is left is a sensation; one of relief, a feeling of sudden freedom from the burden of living, close to understanding. But it’s lost in the recesses of winding nocturnal corridors and I cannot find my way back to retrieve it.

What could it be? Who did it come from? A vague figure lurks behind the words I cannot hear, never did, they were just there, imprinted by a silent voice of a shadowy presence. Pregnant with the resolution of so many doubts, redolent of hope, messengers from beyond.

What was the message? What truth was revealed to my dream self? I cannot stop asking. All my life, I had been asking. I had forgotten the question in the meantime, but I am still waiting for the answer. And now that I received it – or did I? -, it slipped away. Lodged in my subconscious, like every experience, it will guide me from now on, without my knowing it.

I only have to trust.

Some call it faith.

It’s not easy.

It may not be true.

I have to fall asleep soon, or I will go mad.

©aother

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