A year ago my memories are disjointed and unreal.
I’m never sure what is dream, memory or story told to me.
This was the time most confusing.
Where I turned things I didn’t understand into dreams that made sense. Which didn’t. But seemed safer.
I have memories of those dreams as clear as a movie.
Dreams about hallways that move. Rooms that are cold. Entire scenes as authentically Mexican as Taco Bell.
Did you know I could breath under water?
Then I remember feelings.
Not wanting to close my eyes when my kids were still there.
Laying on the floor in the dark wondering when someone would help me.
His voice. Always his voice.
Sometimes the music.
What a change a year brings.
What will the stories of the year to come be like?