2/22/2012 4:37 am

I saw familiar strangers in my dream tonight. This twilight of half-reality was just real enough to awaken memories of fifteen years ago. It was a reunion. The faces that came to me were not real. They were older versions of people that never were. They spoke English. We walked through rooms that never existed, we shook hands. The reality of that dream haunts me, and the detail is clear even after it’s gone. August 1997. A feeling of failure. That nagging consciousness of people around me being more determined and hard-working. People with ‘style in their character’. I saw a glimpse of something I would be struggling with for decades — I am now sure of it. In the dream I felt vindicated because I had ‘made it’ elsewhere despite not making it there with them. These imaginary people just don’t know how small a pond I have been swimming in since we parted.

Laziness and fear keep the Orwellian Prole in me alive. This detestable lack of self-discipline: there are books out there today that explain it away and keep the herd of animals pacified. It’s high time I broke these chains.