Dreams of sand
Discover more from Vic Koopmans
As the sun rises, the barbell rises above my chest. Repetition after repetition, exercise after exercise. Tiring out muscles, exhausting mental negativity.
I do not partake in the staring contests and heavy grunting that take place around me. Too many thoughts are running never-ending marathons through my mind. Too many life altering question marks need to be bend into exclamation marks.
Needing to improve my current situation, needing full financial liberty, so I can put the pen and nauseating laptop down and finally take my health into consideration. My deteriorating health is taking its toll on me and fundamental change is the only possible payback.
Until now I’ve only been living my dream life whilst sleeping. Hard work and discipline are the two pillars that’ll eventually make that life appear during waking hours.
Ah, yes. A secluded, securely isolated house by the beach, overlooking the sea. Somewhere where the weather is perpetually agreeable.
Going out every now and then to help those struggling mentally. Switching back gears, finally giving my condition the rest it so craves and deserves. Finally accepting the severity of it, finally decreasing the pain.
I visualise a big table full of delicious food. Around it: happiness and joy on the faces of my family, friends and multiple wives and girlfriends (my dream, shut up). All their financial contemplations taken care of. Giving back to those that have given to me.
“¿Estás usandolo?”
I nod at the Argentinian youngster that wants to use the bench I sit on, leave the gym and make my way to my apartment.
I arrive home and gently wake up the sleeping beauty lighting up my bedroom. She motions for me to lay down. My wishes and duties do not concur today, but discipline trumps desire. I lift her up and carry her to the shower.
Artificial raindrops and coffee revive my co-star. I kiss all her cheeks once more, place the halo above her head to trick the outside world and shut the door behind her.
I open the curtains and look at the grey clouds. My head continues its daily torment routine.
No one has the resolving answer. No one will take these problems away. Nor should that ever be expected.
I glance at the grey clouds and close my eyes, my imagination turns them into rainbows. Unceasingly in search of the pot of gold.
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