6 Oct 2016

Inbetween

There is something I am not sure of. It's a vision. It's a memory. But I am not sure if it was real, just a dream or unknown past memory. It's about an old house and a place around, where my grandparents lived, where I spent everyday until I went to kindergarten, where I often visited until they moved to another condominium.

Thinking rationally and calmly, it is more likely to be a illusion. If I ask my relatives, they may give me an answer easily. But the vision is so clear, it's too realistic, the answer isn't enough to sweep away. It always confuses me both waking and dreaming.
I saw the wooden door in their kitchen. It was mysterious. But does it exist?
I run through the beautiful flower field behind their house. Was the field there?
I climbed up the hill with my grandfather and ate my favourite sweets on the way to the top while looking down on the house. Was the hill there? Did we really go for a picnic?
Since when, I've been keeping memories? But I can't sweep them away.