Our world has become a dream within a dream but we will face this, our incubus, together.
Tuesday 21st March, 2017
Outside a cold, unfeeling grey light has settled itself around the landscape. It will rest there, for the next few hours, in a non-committal way, showing no signs of the day to come. Like an heartless anaemia, it drains all colour and life to create a world of half-shadows, settles a stillness on the chittering giving it a spectral air.
Inside too is grey despite the wan disinterested glow from the high wattage bulb. It’s almost as if the pre-dawn’s grizzled aspect has by some form of underhand osmosis, crept its murky way into my world. Blurring, confusing, bleaching, bewildering.
Grey /grei/adjective – of a colour indeterminate between black and white , as of ashes or lead – silver, pearly, smoky; silver, hoary; ashen, wan, sickly, bloodless, drawn, deathly, ghostly – without interest or character, dull and nondescript: noun – grey colour or pigment, “dirty indeterminate tones of grey”: verb – become grey with age
I have tried for too long now to fictionalise this more than factual storyline. Pushed it around like a piece of gristle on a cold plate. Uncanny then that reality bites during this cold and hoary hour which belongs neither to night nor day. I awoke into its uncaring coldness to the harsh reality that, as they say, the hour had cometh. For my world, is indeed fading to grey and at a speed that appears to be accelerating by the week. I am living in a landscape fast losing its colour, in a storyline that has rendered me impotent.
I am losing her, I am losing her, I am losing her. Right in front of my very eyes, like a rudderless boat drifting out onto a vast lake, its course getting more uncertain, its speed quickening with time. I am within reach, touching distance of a hair’s breadth and yet here I am, grasping at nothing, chasing shadows that cannot be caught. She is here and yet she is not here, or rather like a will o’the wisp, she is here and then she is gone.
The time has come for me to walk into this fast encompassing twilight and to stand with her, side by side, to take her hand and squeeze it. To let her know, during our more lucent hours, that I am there, I will be there, always, through both seeming and reality. Our world has become a dream within a dream but we will face this, our incubus, together.
“All that we see or seem is but a dream within a dream” – Edgar Allan Poe
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