Falling Seasons

Autumn is the only season of the year I feel homesick. It's a perpetual anxiety that lingers throughout the day and night that stems from the feeling of the cool, but not yet cold weather.
Something about open skies, a bright sun and an almost wintery chill that comes through screened windows to exposed skin that reminds me of a past that I cannot fully recall.
At home the trees are about to change colors and the bay is creeping onto the property and for once everything seems quiet - except for the occasional ocean breeze and scratching of fallen leaves scuttling down the dead end road in small packs.
There needs to be a large screened porch surrounding me with a view, with wicker chairs and classical music playing on a small radio with the smell of frying eggs coming in from a kitchen window.
I feel like traveling, but at the same time I feel like settling.
When I wake up in the morning I want to walk to my large sliding glass doors and see rolling hills and mountains or the large expanse of an ocean or sea while sipping hot tea.
During the Fall I wish I was home.

Memory Ballad

Every dream is a constant reminder of the past, present and future based on personal experience. In these dreams there is an inherent recollection of every exposure, intimacy and savoir-faire of a person. Whether they are young or old, male, female or in between - it doesn't matter.
I used to remember my dreams, and in those most lucid moments I could pick out my own timeline as though it was written on a chart. Here I was born, and over here I cried, and here I laughed, loved, kissed, ran away and returned.
Dreams are abstract documentaries on your psyche, and a cross section of your own longevity.
Where do I stand at these crossroads? In what direction do I point myself? When does past, present and future become one? Or does it choose to remain fully hidden under psychosis or under one's unwillingness to remember?

Dreams and Thoughts

Once I had a dream about making it big in the film industry. That I was a director and a screenplay writer and skilled and well-known for my work. I was respected and praised for what I had accomplished and people eagerly waited the next best thing. It wasn't about the money or the fame, it was the feeling of self-satisfaction that hit me. The bliss of being exactly where I wanted to be. But alas it was only a dream and remains that way for now.

I dream about falling - A LOT. Like from buildings and mountains or tall trees. The uncomfortable moments of having nothing under my feet and then the painful strike of waking so suddenly in a cold sweat.

I used to dream about my past life. It was lots of reoccurring moments and places. Airports, Europe, tiny apartments and what I thought was love. Over time the dreams caught up with reality as though, in a delayed sense of being. It took a full year for the dreams to catch up to the present state of mind. In the dreams I was now unhappy as I was while being awake. It is strange how that works. Happy in the lie or unhappy with the truth? "The blissful cliche."

And last night I seem to remember having a dream about it being winter and being worried about the days getting shorter again...