Time is different here, I tell him, after the sun has set behind the mountain and a swelling moon rises in the east. Not irrelevant, but like it moves according to different rules. I wake disoriented every morning at dawn, crawl out of deep dreams in which I have moved to the top of a hill, in which I have moved to a foreign land, in which my apartment is still always the size of a shoebox, some realities remain umovable. A dentist appointment approaches and my mouth is all pyschoanalytic interpretation, is all repressed feelings and unprocessed fears. But my body is browning with the season, my smile is adapting to a world uncovered, perhaps there is light at the end of this tunnel. Time moves according to different rules even when we think we bend it to our will, the point is it moves and we move with it.
The point is this morning I woke up from strange dreams with a mouth full of words and when they say you'll know the love of your life when you see it
I don't think they meant this
but
I do.
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