Memories of being slightly drunk [come and see me] Story Source: Sushi Image source: The Internet Recently I really can't understand why I always love to dream about exams at night, and often because I can't

Memories of slightly drunk [Come and see me]

Source of the story: Confessional Stone

Image source: Network

Lately I really don't understand why I always dream about exams at night, and often struggle in my dreams because I can't do the questions on the exam papers. After waking up, looking out the dark window and listening to the familiar breath of the people around me, it was difficult to fall asleep.

Ask the doctor and say that the dream of often having exams is that you have experienced too many exams or that life is too stressful. Well, I grew up under the test-taking education, of course, the exam is like a common thing, and I am still a "master", as long as the important exams are rarely lost, otherwise how can there be a stack of various certificates today? Among them, there are really many popular certificates with high gold content. Everyone will have the pressure of life, more or less, but I do not admit that my life pressure is too great, I am free by nature, and there is naturally a lot of leisure.

I think most people in the world live ordinary: mediocre and hardworking. If mediocrity is the appearance of mortals, it is the norm for small people. Life should be very specific, even very trivial, and I am no exception: occasionally I care about the rise and fall of stocks because I still have stocks that have been locked up for many years; adding to the crowd, queuing up in the supermarket to buy special cabbage, not only because the cabbage next to South Korean friends has been sold for 89 yuan per tree, but also makes me have to look at this former civilian dish differently, but also because I also have the psychology of a small citizen who calculates the price difference.

But having these ordinary people does not prevent me from constantly dreaming of literature, I am like a bird eager to fly, eager to swim in the ocean of literature. Once immersed in the words I like, all the troubles are thrown out of the clouds; just reading too much, sometimes melancholy, sometimes confused, but they fill my life with happiness and satisfaction, and become an indispensable part. The world is more about hustle and bustle and strife, less about finding a place of peace for the soul. It is a great blessing that I can enjoy it in the small world of literature that I have created, and I have never forgotten to take the path I like.

I don't expect others to understand my pursuit, just as some plants always live only in their own small world, bloom some small flowers that they like, and revel in the moment when they bloom alone, as to whether they can bear fruit, it does not matter, these others include him. I have heard him point out with a rational eye the pretentiousness and illusion of my articles, in order not to wake up from the beautiful dreams he has woven, and in order to "defend" the sacredness of literature, I have then retorted that he is becoming more and more vulgar and has reached the point of intolerability. In this situation, he had to pat me on the shoulder, no longer say a word, smile and walk away, busy with his going, leaving me alone and angry. Therefore, I don't often show him what I write.

Think about it, this also blames me, when he was on the cold seashore in winter, he memorized Cao Cao's "Short Song Line" in one breath, which was very arrogant. After the bright moon rose on the sea, when I blurted out the lonely "Spring River Flower Moon Night", I could see that he was also intoxicated... He laughed that it was still romantic sensationalism, but men should still be realistic. But the deep meaning of his words, I did not seriously think about it at that time. Later, I found that my flood of sensibility and idealization did cause him a lot of trouble out of thin air, and as soon as things came out, in most cases I was helpless, and most of them chose to run away from the wilderness and throw things at him, and they had to be handled by his "common man".

Later, it slowly came to understand: he did not dislike romance. He didn't do it, but left it all to me selflessly. Just imagine, two people are in love and romantic, what will family life look like? Needless to say, the results are predictable.

On a rare weekend when we could get together, he was relieved from the busyness of the day and night, which was really rare for him. So he doesn't have to be so rational, and I don't laugh at him as unreasonable. We opened a bottle of red wine and looked for a feeling. I love red wine, for the reason that it's enough to look at the bottles and goblets that serve wine, which are exclusively elegant shapes—tall and seductive, not the same as the bulky and straightforward liquor bottles and their low wine utensils.

After a few drinks, his eyes lit up and the man became a little strange. I suddenly remembered the years when we first met, and his eyes were clearly like this tonight, without a trace of obstruction, unobstructed. He was completely relaxed at this time, he looked at me and said, what a beautiful night, let's recite "Spring River Flower Moon Night" together, that must feel wonderful! Who's going to be the first sentence?

This is my memory of being slightly drunk, but that has nothing to do with drinking.