The Wolves

A note about writings from the archive:
These writings are things I have found tucked away in some obscure corner of one of my many forgotten USB drives. I no longer necessarily still identify with what is written, as they are from a past life (or a few lifetimes ago), but I appreciate them for what they are and have decided to share.

The following is the story of a dream I once had:

There are these two young women. And both are very interesting, very appealing; you can’t decide between the two. You go out with one, and you love it, but you go out with the other and love it that much more. But, for some reason, the first one keeps coming up in your mind.

You love the time you spend with each one. They are different, but equal; you don’t want to give up either one. You want to have both, but you know it is impossible. You like them both so much! You don’t know which one to choose.

Then, there are these wolves, and these wolves are running. They run, run, run; all they do is run. There are six (6), eight (8), maybe (4). You don’t know how many wolves there are, but you know they are always running. And the days are passing by, the years are passing by. Centuries, decades, seconds, minutes. Every bit of time is passing by, and the wolves are running. Running, running, running; they are always running. You don’t know how many wolves there are, but you know they are running. Running, running, running. Running. And running. And running…until that day.

On that day, you hear screams. On that day, there is such an intense, bright light, and you are doing everything you can to avoid it. Everything. You are in a city, and everything is unfamiliar. This is entirely new to you, because everything you knew before was the wolves.

And you knew they were always running. Days, centuries, seconds, minutes, centuries, seconds, minutes, days. All you knew was time was passing, and the wolves were running. Running, running, running. Seven (7), five (5), nine (9)? You don’t know how many wolves were running, but you knew they were running. Running, running, running. Always running. And time is passing by. Every bit of time is passing and the wolves were always running. And running. And running. And running…until that day.

That day is back in your memory, but you are living it for the first time. Someone opened the curtains and you are covering your eyes to shield them from the light. The race is on, you gotta get out of there. But everything is unfamiliar, you don’t know where to go. You run out into the street. You are in a city. It’s unfamiliar, but have you been here before? It’s real, you can see it. But something is missing, details are missing. Is this place reality?

You see a person. They are the first person you’ve ever met, apart from yourself. But you don’t have time to talk with them, you are focused on the gigantic, looming ball in the sky that is coming to end your life. It’s big, really big. It’s blocking the source of light, but it’s so bright all around you. The ball is coming towards you, you don’t have any idea what’s going on. Are the wolves coming to get me? You know they are running…

The wolves, back to the wolves. It’s dark again, just as it’s always been when you’ve seen the wolves. But not so dark that you cant see anything. Its comfortably dark, but you can see the wolves as you look down on them. They are running and time is passing. Every bit of time is passing, and the wolves are running. 6? Are there 6? 5? 9? You don’t know how many, but you can see them running. They are in a triangle, like birds in the sky. A lot of them are gray, and a lot of them look the same. But they aren’t birds in the sky, you know they are wolves. And you know they are running. And time is passing. Time is passing and the wolves are running, you know that. Until that day…

You are back in the city, the ball in the sky is sure to get you. (Are the wolves coming?) The wolves come from behind you and sweep you off your feet. Except you aren’t you, you’re watching you now. You watch the wolves come sweep you off your feet. Now you’re you again, being swept. And they carry you off…

As you tell this story, you are telling it to yourself. As you are living it, you are telling it. It’s raining outside. You’re inside, and there’s candles along the walls keeping the room dimly lit. You know it’s raining. You can see the rain, you’ve felt rain, but you don’t hear it.

The man outside is passionately debating with himself which girl he would choose: the blonde, or the brunette. He can’t decide at all. He really likes them both, he says; he simply can’t decide. They were both so amazing in his eyes, a decision was impossible. Did you figure out what day it was? The day everything changed? Which girl you would pick? I was figuring it out right along with you. The answer came to me, do you know it? That day was your birthday…

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