She wakes up, not know who she was.
It was simple. She had fallen asleep soundly reading something and now it was exactly 2am . It was simple because she had no idea what she was doing and why she was there.
At 2am, Krystal Jung's brain was a fog of sleep mixed with sharp awareness. It was as if her body was tired but her mind was awake. Whatever this feeling was, it was strange and she didn't like it. She felt present, but also invisible. Did the paradoxes end?
She was from an age of constant busyness and in her line of work, setting aside time for oneself was thought of as tedious, disconcerting, and even a bit scary. What was she feeling?
She closed her eyes, focusing all of her energy inward. It was like food for the brain. She suddenly felt braver, clarity gave way - and yet still, she had reached a conclusion about not wanting the life she had; including the glamour and the attention. Materialism was just another illusion. Besides, the only constant in life was change.
. . .
What does one do when they don't have a dream?
Are you inclined to sit around until you do? Or are you supposed to actively seek it?
Or maybe you're more keen on finding the marginalised. These are people who have dealt with hardship, after all, and could perhaps enlighten you about what their dreams are. Would you be humbled then? Inspired?
And then there are the privileged. The elite. What could you possibly dream about when you already had everything?
. . .At the age of nineteen, to be exact.
Your life is your own story. The days may go by and you establish a routine. You mark the important as important and everything else as mundane. You know how the story is going to end and that death is inevitable, but you're still eager and want to know what happens next. You thought you had the arc of the story, but you keeping finding yourself confused and tangled in chapters you don't understand; everything is important or nothing really is or was. Everything keeps changing and everything keeps staying the same. This has to be another coming of-age. But the very lucky, select few don't want that. They don't want to settle for what everyone else had settled for, generations before them. They want something epic. Deep down, you may even have this conviction that you there's this whole fleeting life waiting for you. You search for meaning in every clue without accepting that everything will happen perfectly in time. What kind of story is this? You might just wake up one day and realise that you can choose your own adventure.