Nostalgia

I had many reoccurring dreams as a child. Some with hints of hilarity, others a subtle fear, and some with power enough to send me to any room it would’ve chosen. There is one that holds all, and with a sense of nostalgia stronger than all of them combined.

I was maybe three, four at the most. I was walking with my family through Mystic Village. I couldn’t recall Connecticut’s season, it was most likely Summer. We were behind a large red building, what must have been masquerading as a barn. I could hear nothing but the industrial fans near the roof, and my heartbeat, the latter being the dominant sound. I walked, but no matter how fast, I couldn’t seem to catch up to where my parents were. I was left with nothing but the company of this heartbeat, consistent and unchanging, cold and incessant. I’d never felt lonelier in my life.

Today I am alone. Cold. This cup of stronger tea is the only warm I’ve felt today.

August 22, 2008. Uncategorized.