Slowly opening my eyes, the familiarity of my room pulled me back into reality. What a strange dream.
I'm a degree graduate currently taking a year off to "rediscover myself"—or at least, that's the alibi. The truth is, I feel like I'm losing my mind. I'm a hyperaware individual, perhaps a little paranoid… only a little—trust me… please?
Anyway, my therapist suggested that growing up in an unstable environment conditioned me to constantly analyze the moods of others to avoid conflict. According to them, this outdated defense mechanism now causes me to question both others, myself and even reality excessively, creating distance between me and meaningful relationships.
But I've never really seen it as a flaw. I was aware of this tendency long before my therapist pointed it out. And I refuse to accept that doubt is inherently bad. Doubt is what keeps us alive; more importantly, it is the birthplace of questions.
In the earlier part of my life—especially the years leading up to turning eighteen—I spent most of my time trying to fit in. I did everything I could to be liked, to be understood, even if it meant suppressing what I truly saw and felt. I learned to ignore my own intuition, convincing myself that belonging mattered more than honesty.
But somewhere along the way, I reached my limit. You can only deceive yourself for so long—eventually, the truth finds its way to the surface. The problem was, shadows of truths I ignored took on a more twisted form, bringing with it rage and hate.
Before I forget, this is my journal and my name is Dharma. In the old tongue, it is said to mean duty, the order that binds the world together. There is a quiet irony in that, one I have only begun to understand. The more I come to know myself, the less certain I am that I deserve such a name.
My country is a developing one, there are cities here and there, but mostly, it is cluster of towns-suburbs, with dense growth of woodlands in between, connected to each other by roads and railways. I live in one such town bordering a dense spinney. There is actually a reserve wildlife habitat no more than fifty kilometers nearby. So some animals finding their way to human settlements is not that rare, but the forest rangers do a good job of bringing them back to their habitat. And, because of the possibility of some predator animals like tigers, it is generally not advised to wander at nighttime.
But, as someone who enjoys solitude, I often roam around at night anyway. I use an EV-scooter as my chariot, most of the time, only returning home some time before sunrise. And lately it has become more frequent, because sleep doesn't come that easy anymore.
I feel like something has gone catastrophically wrong with the world, or you know just me? I don't see any notable change, other than just more of violence, and countries at each others neck, nothing new I guess, but I feel it everyday, from the moment I wake up, or even when I'm sleeping...I'm constantly on edge — like there is no safe place in this world anymore. This is the case for almost two years now, and it is weighing down on me, not a day goes by where I refrain from questioning my own sanity.
There are a few frequent spots, I usually visit at night, A narrow road cutting quietly through endless rice fields. On either side, the land lies open and untouched, offering an uninterrupted view of the vast sky. Beneath a small tree by the roadside rests a worn stone slab—simple, unassuming. I sit there in the soft glow of moonlight, surrounded by silence, gazing upward as the sky unfolds above me—wide, infinite, and quietly breathtaking.
Tonight, I was planning to go there, but the dream was on my mind the whole day. It seems my mind won't rest unless I go there.
"Ah, if only I knew, my life would never be the same after that...…