Little pieces of me

Somewhere between a dream and my imagination
I see myself setting up a comfy seat made of sand along the beach, music plugged into one ear. Every time I see myself there, the genre of music playing is different. Sometimes it’s blues, sometimes it’s metal, and sometimes its ballads. One thing is consistent every time I see myself there; I always go there alone, but someone joins me. I'm not sure who. I'm sure I didn't invite them there.
That person and I just sit there. Conversation if any is very scarce. The need to fill awkward gaps goes away after a short while. But there are a lot of unanswered questions hanging, which both of know needn't be addressed right then. So we just let them be.

Many of us have a soul presence... which is very similar to our physical presence at where ever we are, only the soul presence is a feeling. A sense of being, which can sometimes be more real to us than our physical surroundings. In the soul presence, time moves slower, and the number of people around us are much more filtered.
My soul surrounding has been, for a few months now, a forest. In the middle of it. Neat, but not the pretty kinds. There ain't no stream near by, no colorful flowers, just a lot of shade and soft grass to tread/ sleep on. I  feel like I ended up there by a mistaken choice, and that choice was the last resort, and though I did fight, I fought all the wrong sides because I didn't know who was with and who was against me. So post all the fighting, I ended up at that quiet part of the forest. Though initially restless, I succumbed to the exhaustion and stayed still for a while.
Now I feel like I'm waking up, and I'm tired of how still everything is around me. No air, no movement.

All the various broken little pieces of me I had left lying all around me, thinking I would never bother picking up again are still there. I see myself cautiously picking up one or two and examining them.
Considering put them back again.
The problem with this stage is, there is a lot of remorse associated with each piece. Each piece has a ton of memories and emotions attached to it. Putting them together again means dealing with those pieces.

Now that I am awake, I also realize that people who were with me have gone ahead.
A part of me just wants to shut eye and go back to that temporarily insane peacefulness. I know that it's not the best option. So I just sit, fidgeting with the pieces.

As I sit at the beach, I watch the sun slowly setting, sending the world into an array of colors. I'm not moving, but I'm wondering if and when that other person will.


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