On the recommendation of a friend I recently watched an Argentine film named The Secret in Their Eyes, where the remark "a life full of nothing" cropped up a few times.
Which set me thinking, what do we want our life to be filled with? There was a time when I thought I knew, now I am not sure anymore. Not very long after my life has been filled with something that I thirst after something else. It's nice to feel smug for a while, then that very satisfaction becomes an itch that begs for another kind of satisfaction.
For many years I've been having these dreams, the details being different each time but the theme always the same: I did not finish whatever I had set out to do and consequently felt overwhelmingly distressed.
I suppose that being full with something is not the same as being full.