But my totems were tops which were made of ice.
I rolled both in my hands, like they were a pair of dice. I don't remember feeling the cold or the frost bites. But I seemed to know they were ice. I picked one and let it spin. It bounces off the floor a few times, like pebble skipping across calm water. Shards of ice broke off the top; but it still spun perfectly, nearly confusing it for an over-enthusiastic ballerina.
Watching it spin, it seemed to take a long time, idleness fell upon me. I watched it, and let calmness fulfill my soul. The tension I have kept was released.. and I felt spared. I lose myself in the spinning top, observing every revolution, as it spins and spins... appearing in slow motion to me. I took in every moment. I wasted none at all. Flashes of other memories seemed to appear, as my focus on the spinning top was never broken.
A reflection of my own self sparkled out of the mirror-like-ice-top. Droplets seemed to form at the edge of the top. Some sloughed of the top, revealing stories of memories I never knew. Like a space-time continuum, I see my younger self. Some which are only memories of the last weekend.
As I observed each tale the top has to tell, some of which really strucked the chords of the elastic laminae in my heart, some of which made my heart feel larger than ever... heartbeats ever racing; I never realised that my hand holding the other top was clenched tightly into a fist. I never felt any pain, I never realised a puddle was forming around my shoes. And I guess I never knew I slipped...
And I was awoken... and I found my hands wet... but most importantly... I never saw the top wobbled... I never finished my dream...
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