Photo by Irina Iriser on Unsplash

Time is a curious thing. Every now and then, I find myself pondering about the passage of time. Indeed, how can one not think about something as ever-present and overwhelming as the concept of time? Sometimes, I feel like a passenger on a never-stopping train, travelling on a railroad of unknown yet finite length. Such is the journey of life it seems.

Nonetheless, what bothers me most is not the inevitable end, but the constant motion. We can relax when we are stressed. We can rest when we are tired. Yet, there is no respite from time. Each second passes onto the next. We can never hope to pause, and simply enjoy the now. The past keeps expanding. The present is always shifting to the past. The future never arrives.

I could be watching a movie, listening to a song, or reading a book. Those experiences would feel so vivid and presently whilst I was still in the moment. However, all is over as quickly as it came – every picture, every note, and every page. With everything doomed to pass, I can never hope to relive or recount each particulate of every moment. I can recall the sheer thrills watching Breaking Bad for the first time offered, but forcing myself to watch it again will never yield the same experience.

Every day feels like a dream, ever so different but familiar. You know you have lived the past twenty years, every second of it. Yet, it feels so faint and distant, like a collection of many fleeting dreams. Each day passes so indiscriminately to the next. Yesterday was a dream, but so is today when tomorrow comes. Are we merely prisoners to this flux of dreams?