The Dream of What We Were Not

Today, December 24, 2024, I woke up from a bad dream, and in the end, we went our separate ways. Maybe it's the afterlife trying to tell me something, or maybe it's just me looking for a different path.

This repeats itself in my mind like a simulation doomed to failure. It all seems so simple, but why isn't it? Why, in the darkness of the night, does it haunt me again? I remain inert, like a rusty lightning rod, waiting for a bolt of lightning that never comes, the same bolt of lightning that would put me back on track. But there is no lightning, I am not a lightning rod.

But now, everything has changed, and it will be different than it was, unless this is just another dream, another ordinary day. And if, when I wake up tomorrow, I still wish I was who we were, fearing that I will become your disease, and not your cure… I will never be able to forgive myself.

We will be left with the “if” despite everything that has gone before. What if, when we look at the portrait, we were the model? Would it be worth trying again, or are we just stuck in an illusion of what might have been?