6AM

For a moment I seemed completely lost. I'd woken up from a dream that captured flashes of me running through a great piece of land, heading towards the direction of which I thought bore an enormous prize worth more than a dime. But I didn't know what it could've possibly been. A book of knowledge? An expensive seed? A magic button that, at the hit of it, would grant me my heart's deepest desire? Whatever it was, I was running. The flash switched to another slide of this perpetuating thud that was rhythmically echoing a few metres behind me. Loud, clearly audible footsteps that demanded their presence as well as my attention. So it seemed that I wasn't the only one chasing after this precious stone of a prize. It didn't occur to me as to how many of us were in this similar situation, all in this same damp terrain, yearning desperately for that same prize. The scene was brimmed with images of my trying to locate where exactly I was in, but running furiously at the same time through this twisted forest. Beyond the trees were these shimmering, multicoloured futuristic-looking panels which bore the clearest reflection of the woods, doubling its expanse. Separated by these panels were striking streaks of thin neon lights, for whatever purpose they served I had no recollection of, and as I continued pacing I noticed fear and panic engulfing my being. The thought of wanting to reach my prize fled almost immediately, and seconds later my world began spinning in constant yet sporadic motions, alternating between my own confusion and my unusual competitiveness at coveting an unknown object, if it even was one. I started questioning the reality of my adventure, and then it all sprang back up to nothingness as I bluntly awoke.

To have had a good night's sleep last night was one of the first few times of the month that brought me satisfaction. I don't know what sort of interpretation my dream was unfolding, but if I could attribute it to my exhaustion as of late, I wouldn't completely do so. Fact is, my dreams are never always so suspenseful and mysterious. On tired days I usually find myself slipping into imaginary made-up worlds bearing skies of magenta and where mostly amusing incidents crop up; not daunting, adrenaline-pumping ones like the one I've just described. It strikes me that my late night sleeping habits may be costing me some damage in my sleep now that my sound mind is wilfully entering such vague dreams that hold metaphorical confusion along with feelings that seem all too real just as when I'm conscious and awake. How eerie. But then again I might be blowing things out of proportion, and if my mind decides yet again to conjure these chain of foggy sequences, I may as well sleep a little more to discover what the prize really was.

Perhaps my answer lies in more resting. Not just physically, but in God as well. The month came to me in such a blow - deadlines, exams, revision, reflecting... The prize. The prize of proving yourself wrong. The prize of gaining that boost of confidence when you understand what you're studying. That prize of being content. Of being proud of who you have become. I may have stranded far off into this sea of wilderness, trapped within these priorities that consumed my core's wish to the point that I gave in to actually being lost. For days I kept awake and witnessed the break of dawn, along with the early chirping of the birds that proved to be the sweet noises accompanying my solitary nights of flipping through materials and thinking aloud. Why had I gotten lost in prioritising to the point that I had to keep coming up with new prizes of my own to aim for? The prize of being a quick perfectionist. I wonder if the prize could in itself be the distraction as well. That these priorities may not even be prizes, and that the actual one stood all along in my heart like a sturdy rock, just that I'd ignored it all along to deem it far more important than the rest of the others. How trivial I've become.

So that could be it. Resting. Knowing that in the grand scheme of things, such expectations of myself may not always materialise, and I should very well accept that. My reward is nested somewhere reachable, not at an obscure place where I'm scurrying madly towards, with confusion and other distractions shadowing me. It's always somewhere I should be extremely familiar with, and it's a place where all my insecurities lay bare, and all my troubles seem very much lighter. Less burdensome. And this should soothe my tired soul.