The Rain Sounds Welsh

There’s something about this morning which has put my head in a state of dislocation.

My aim last night before retiring for bed, was to do so at a time that would allow me to easily get up with my alarm at 6 so that I could write.

Something about creeping through the house in the dark, trying to be quiet, sitting in the dimly lit room, hearing seagulls and waiting for the sun to come up – I for some reason seemed to align myself with my past self, the one that was living with Granny in Wales.

The wind has been gusting against the house all morning, and finally the rain has broke through, and the drops are thrown against the windows.

I look outside, see the yard my boyfriend and I have been tackling over the last week, and it isn’t familiar. Yes, logic is reminding me that I have been living here for the past six months, but for some reason, my mind is having a difficult time agreeing with it. The air is different, the sounds are different – it’s all different, and I am struggling between the two realities. Which one am I existing in?

I think that is my problem. I do believe in the multiverse, and that there are the infinite realities in existence, that our mind can only focus on one at a time, which is the one we settle on. However I think my mind struggles between two realities, is experiencing both, side by side – one where I am in Wales, and one where I am in Washington. I think perhaps this is why I can’t stay away from the place that I hated living in so much, a place that every time I visit I ask, “Why the hell am I here?” I’m simply aware of two different realities in which my character plays.

 

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