Once I saw a
boab tree and I felt repulsed at how much it looked like an imaginary old-me.
I used to have a habit of
projecting horror-visions of my future-self onto inanimate objects, something I
hardly noticed develop until suddenly everything looked like saggy skin. Unmade beds and deflated
balloons often featured in my dreams.
The results of some
self-psychoanalysis revealed the seedling of all this, buried in a thick layer
of memory-dirt.