A Thought Registered in Time

The house is warm. In the middle of the room, the fire swings it’s flames up, in a dance of hues and yellows. I should really be working on a contract, but somehow my enthusiasm for it does not overcome my doubts about it. I thought it was going to be the golden key to commence our journey, just as promised. I hadn’t counted on the fear factor! Keep forgetting to remember people’s tendencies in a desperate attempt at believing. Never seem to learn. And the worse is that I believe it is real each time. The disillusion makes it more and more difficult, to start believing in the next dream. The nightmare periods become more obscure and the atrocities one can do to oneself are exponentially more sadistic each time. V