the next step

i am waiting for the next step, like the dough is rising and it's only a matter of time
it is inevitably going to be bread; warm, perfectly cooked through, with a crunchy and delicious crust
the bread metaphor is the title of this piece.
i'm trying not to rush it
well, i'm glad i don't have to , i guess
it's going to happen when it happens, right?
blah;
start again.
i dreamed a male moose who'd lost his antlers was slowly coming at me
and i backed, trembling, through a vagrant's tent in the meadow
i didn't step on him, but the moose might have
i wondered if i'd have to dart behind trees to keep a barrier between the beast and i
as i was about to enter the woods, i was aware of the dream
and consciously stopped it, despite an inner need to complete the scene
i had to fight to pull away, to enter the bed reality.
i'm glad i did. i was scared out of my mind.
although, even in the dream, i pulled out my camera and started recording a video.

sometimes i want to move away from this country, just forget about all the conflicts and idiocy. really, why do i stay? is it really the comfort? is it really the false sense of security? will i miss my things, my family? or is there actually something i like about this place?
is there?
also i don't really speak other languages confidently. i'm sure i could get by and eventually thrive, but taking the next step is often difficult for me.

BRIAN OUT.