Tee Träume

Tee. Kamillentee.

And I am taken back to a time where my days were marked by the spells of a dream. Eventually, Dornröschen wakes up after a very, very long sleep. Are memories past still relevant after having slept for a century? Only yesterday were we clad in the joy of perfect denial, which now... As the dust fall away with the eyelids that blink, only the imperceptible particles remain to toy with our perception that once upon a time, other than ourselves, something very real had shared our breath.

Life is but a dream...

Perhaps there is some truth in that. For what are memories, if not distant dreams? The recollection of the bittersweet past, whose pain is sweetened by the filter of a fading longing, leaves one shivering by the lake on a calm Wednesday afternoon. Does the hair on my skin fear for the day the final grains of sand slip through the grasp of my remembrance? My weakening resolve to stop its untroubled departure emboldens the melancholy that sings to me.

Returning to a time where Tee was still spellt Thee for me, the sensation of stinging tears from the last performance of my subconscious feels not any less tangible than the fine sprays of the fountain that remind me of the here and now, of the loneliness the wind never fails to complement.