Because I want to have some rest from writing 🙂
Moon phases, cat’s dreams and other photos by MarvellousNightmare
False Memories (Part 2)
DISCLAIMER: the events and the characters mentioned in this story are the product of the author’s imagination
And all of a sudden, the alarm went off. I was so astonished I sat up straight in an instant, looking around with incredulity: I was home! Could it all have been just a vivid nightmare then? Somehow, I seriously doubted that. I didn’t remember going to sleep; quite the opposite, I could perfectly recall every bitter detail of yesterday’s quarrel. I sneezed – exactly. I also had no doubts that I was drenched by rain while parading the night streets in shorts and unzipped. Still, I was in my bed, in pajamas, my yesterday’s clothes hanging on the chairs’ back.Â
In addition to all that, I got a splitting headache. The light – even this murky tender morning light which happens only right before dawn – seemed to be dazzling. I was completely disoriented. I stood up with a moan, and the whole world became blurred and shaky. Besides, my feet were still in pain. I sat down again.
The light was a problem here; I knew that it somehow affected the way I feel, so I decided to pull down the curtains and think. My eyesight was distorted; I couldn’t look directly at any object: my headache immediately returned magnified one thousand times. So I closed my eyes and started retracing yesterday’s walk, or rather my escape from home.
First and foremost – we quarreled. Two adult sisters living together is… hm, a challenging task. If only we had enough money and the place we could go we’d leave each other immediately. But as for now, we had neither choice, nor sources.
We were so different: She and I. Martha was brave and charismatic, always the center of attention. The awareness of that made Her addicted to the admiration of the crowd. My Sister spent all Her time on social media, impressing the public with retouched selfies and generated quotes, forgetting that these were fabricated lies that had little to do with her real self.
Continue reading “False Memories (Part 2)”False Memories (Part 1)
DISCLAIMER: the events and the characters mentioned in this story are the product of the author’s imagination
I guess it all began the moment I slammed the door loudly, causing the tiny rivers and streams of stone dust and chalk to run down onto the floor. I quickly scrutinized the tiny crevices and cracks around the doorframe – eternal remnants of my mood swings and our bitter quarrels… I ran down the steps diving into the silver moonlight that stole all the colors of this world except for black and white…Â
I could discern the catlike silhouettes in the silver slits of windows. All the voices from different flats were mixed and united in one preaching chorus, and all the graffities and scribbles that casually adorned the staircase during the day now were turned into magical patterns and figures. Like cavemen, we continue on and on to mark our achievements, wishes and feelings, etching them deep into the wall.
The entrance door swung open, welcoming the wet, damp wind to fill the darkness. A few rare cool drops of rain fell on my face, mingling and mixing with tears, calming me, reviving and suddenly filling everything with a sense of hope again. I went out, looking up at the sky and breathing deeply, trying to regain composure. My jacket was unzipped carelessly, my strides were long and bold… It was an attempt to become one with the wind, one with the coming storm, to cast off all formalities, reject the laws of physics, and fly over the earth in elemental fury.
A burning array of yellow windows was outlined brightly against the gray carcasses of the buildings, almost indiscernible in the surrounding darkness… I wish I could say the same about the drunken crowd of people, who were shouting and cursing loudly, while checking out the surroundings with an immense hunger for destruction. So I halted for a moment, praying to become invisible.
Continue reading “False Memories (Part 1)”They are intelligent and capable of complex emotions
If you could make your pet understand one thing, what would it be?
I believe they already understand a lot. Definitely much more than this question allows them to, and way more than people usually give them credit to. The topic of animals’ intelligence is fascinating, because, if we dive into it a bit deeper, we will discover that we are not the only intelligent beings on this Earth.
Take apes or dolphins with their intricate social structure, the fact that the apes can even be taught to talk with us using gestures or pictures (I’ve also read that bonobos talk with each other on down to Earth subjects). Moreover, all mammals and some birds have a good emotional intelligence, they are not moving, unthinking objects, they make strategies, they care about each other, they are able of deep affections, and empathy, and you don’t need to have a biological, zoological or veterinarian background, it’s enough for us to live near them, to interact with them to see their intelligence, empathy, curiosity and care. If we have pets, we usually get to know from veterinarians that they are falling into depression sometimes, or have panic attacks, or symptoms that are very close to PTSD (ask any vet). Guess how complex their emotions must be.
You see how they open doors, fridges, and complicated strategies they use to get what they want. How precisely they communicate their wishes. Haven’t you seen how your dog or cat worried and approached you with care when you are sad or ill? How do they listen to you? It is not humanizing, it is what we share as mammals. Look at the gentle and caring mammal and bird moms (not these shock content staged videos some psychopaths make for money).
I have two cats personally, and I assure you: they have feelings, intelligence and, definitely, a soul. I don’t need to teach them to understand, they already do. I think that humanity should finally understand and acknowledge the complexity of their minds.
Prophetic dreams: my experience
Once in a while I happen to have a prophetic dream. Unfortunately, I used to ignore the message they contained as if it was a product of my imagination.
Nonetheless, life shows that I should pay more attention to them, because they often contain various warnings, which could help me, if I paid enough attention. It is a nice talent though, and it could be cool, if it was consciously used, and I know there are a lot of people out there, who are like me and also seek for an answer.
Being myself and adulthood
Sad, but I’m not able to earn money with my passion: I’m not the type of a person who may become prosperous on social media, or who may trade her individuality to be liked or to earn more. I hate to be an advertisement to sell. I hate myself when I’m trying to sell something that almost defines my life, that it is worthy and wonderful. And I only can sell it, coating it with sugar, whipped cream and golden sprinkles and they buy it only because they want golden sprinkles, and only because it’s on sale. Those golden sprinkles btw have nothing in common with what constitutes my passion, though… Whatever. Probably doing that I feel like an Italian, who sits somewhere in America (just analogy, probably not so very accurate) around the students and has to eat these macaroni with ketchup and cheddar cheese. And they ask him:”oooh, this is what you eat in Italy, right?”
Continue reading “Being myself and adulthood”
Coconut Doesn't Exist 