Sitting on the crowded bus surrounded by people she stares out the window at the passing skyline– bright blue and swept with light clouds, like dust across a cement floor. She looks out through the glass and smiles at the beauty that surrounds her, instead of looking in at her self and frowning. She can’t find the beauty there.
So instead she looks out windows at the passing things and reflects on her own mortality; her life too is passing her by. It feels like it was only yesterday, after all, that she dreamed of living in this city; yet, here she is, riding the bus over the bridge and watching the city and the sea grow smaller in the distance. It’s funny how life works– the grass is always greener, she decides.
She remembers then a quote she read, she’s not sure where, about how if you tend your own grass and nurture it, it too will be green. So she decides to work hard at what she has and allow it to grow. That night she tosses and turns, sleep coming only intermittently and riddled with confusing dreams that startle her awake. She dreams of a centipede monster, and the bigger one to come. She wakes, feeling a sense of unease.
“Centipedes are fearsome creatures. In dreams they represent fears and worries that act as obstacles between you and your goals.”
She sighs, rolls out of bed and starts another day. Today she will look out the windows of her city bus and dream not of the monsters she sees at night, but of the sea and what has brought her to where she is.