Trapped In a Dream
BelliranER
Trapped In a Dream
I didn't feel the time that passed,
I couldn’t understand, yet wanted it to last.
I remembered the pain — but felt none,
I couldn’t understand — just relieved it was gone.
As high as my hope, so was my doubt,
As much as I wished, I couldn’t cast it out.
Afraid to admit, yet I knew what it means —
I'm living my life — but trapped in my dreams.
The following text does not explain the work.
It reflects what shaped it.
There are forms of survival that do not happen within the body.
Sometimes the world continues, yet something within us remains elsewhere— not lost, not imagined, but sustained through memory, through longing, through the quiet refusal to let a former life disappear completely.
The figure does not confuse dream with reality.
He knows.
Yet awareness does not always determine where a life is lived.
One part of him remains turned toward warmth, toward movement, toward the memory of a self untouched by time and condition.
Another remains seated within stillness, where the body endures, where life continues without being chosen.
Neither world fully disappears.
They persist beside one another— one inhabited, the other witnessed from a distance.
And still, even beyond attention, even within what is abandoned, life continues quietly on its own.
For even where darkness settles, light still finds a way to remain.