What we see in dreams in 2019
- April 9, 2019, 5:16 p.m.
- |
- Public
I’m lying on my couch, and I’ve got the laptop set up on what I could generously call my Ottoman. The screen is bright, and my eyes are sore. I won’t open them very often, if I can avoid it. The spelling etc. may be bad. That’s a price that we’re all going to have to pay. It’s very late. And I miss the old days.
I’ve dreamed lately. And I liked what I dreamed. I told my brother Collin exactly what I thought of him. And I broke him down to size. And I told my other brother the same, and when he said he would punch me, I told him that he was welcome to. He took a swing at my jaw, but I stood there. I felt the fist connect to my beard, but not to my body. And he understood me quite a bit better.
I’ve seen Amber in dreams and Lee, too. I don’t know what they were doing there. The details escape me. I also seem to remember that I had great story ideas. But I knew that if I got up to write them down, I’d never get back to sleep. And sleep is dear to me.
In my dreams, I reject women. Constantly. Somehow, I always have a sense of right and wrong and don’t violate my stated principles. Generally, what I do in my dreams is pretty indicative of who I am, or, at the very least, what I’d like to be. In reality, a confrontation with my brothers wouldn’t go that well. But, if I ever do get those boxing lessons, I’d like to pay a visit to Collin and tell him exactly what I think of him. Maybe I’ll bring some backup just in case. As for Chris . . . it’s more philosophical than anything. In my mind, he’s twenty, I’m thirteen, and if I share all of his opinions he’ll love me. I just can’t deal with that level of negativity. And I don’t know if he’s dealt with it. So it wouldn’t matter much anyway.
I remember, years ago, a friend of mine (from the Christian school) came back from some event or other and was pretty messed up by a relationship. She said that she hadn’t had sex, but that there were a lot of things that people could do that weren’t sex. I’d never really thought about her in that way. But it’s interesting. I hope she’s happy now.
I’m nostalgic for a time I can barely remember, and I have no one with whom I can reminisce. I am feeling all of these feelings, and thinking all of these thoughts, and all of this beauty and decency comes from the fact that I am, nominally, independent and incredibly alone. I have the freedom to reflect. I have the need to explore. I feel that I’m becoming a different person, but, perhaps a person whom I was always meant to be. It’s hard to figure out what is what. It’s hard to know what is what I should be. Maybe I should continue to consult my dream self. He knows a thing or two.
I had often thought that lying on the bed with somebody would be enough for peace. Now, I find people lying alone. It’s the lesser, but for me, for the moment, it’s the more effective. There is a loneliness inside of me, but it’s the loneliness of a person who longs for understanding, and to be understood. I love Courtney’s path, but it’s not mine. And while I think that I can comprehend hers, to some degree at least, I don’t know if she can see where I’m going. I barely can. Anna can’t make it out.
It’s a silly thing to say, “I’m special,” especially when the lesson of the last ten years has been that I’m not. Yet I feel like I’m dreaming after something of value. Something that people are missing. Something that doesn’t lend itself to words. Something hyper real. Something that’s indescribable. I feel like some nameless part of me has just begun to brush up against some distant force, and this time, I want to see where it goes. When the whirlpool in meditation sucks me down, I keep hoping that it will take me deeper. So far, it hasn’t. Maybe someday it will. I wonder if anyone will recognize me on the other side.
I feel lonely, and alone, but content and at peace. There is nobody I feel that I can really open myself to, and I understand why a Rachael was so critical when I had one. I also understand how, due to all of that, I need to be skeptical about what I’m doing. Logic and categorization defying experiential existence is a pretty sketchy thing to be advocating. We’ll see if it’s there, and if I can handle it.
I’m feeling feelings again. Strong ones. Ones that are removed from much of the negativity that got in the way. I’ve been struggling with that. Also, I suppose, I am weighing myself in the balance, and maybe I have enough worth to indulge in the pursuits of someone whom I considered to be a better man. At least, in some ways. I don’t know why, Sailor Moon, of all things is so tangled up in my psyche. I don’t know why it’s music is so powerful, but it is. Other music was too, of course. I found myself needing air after hearing a few songs, and lying on the couch, sick, on Sunday found me listening to amazing music and being gently crushed by it.
These feelings cannot be unique, but I’m at a loss to find a person with whom I can share or explain much of anything.
Except in my dreams.
I hope all is well.
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