I live unwillingly in other people’s nostalgia. I walk down the street and I am bombarded by their best and mostly false memories from long-ago. Everything is black-and-white in soft focus and too much sunshine.
I long for that rare event of someone with a truly dark subconscious. Grainy horrors and scary monsters. When I find one I follow them as long as I can remain hidden. I have to break it off when they notice me because they are always adept at using the weapons they always carry.
When all else fails the bottle is my guide. Sweet oblivion.