Tag Archives: dreams

When dreams tell

“My momma always said, life was like a box of chocolates; you never know what you’re gonna get.  Life is a box of chocolates.” — Forrest Gump

Okay, so that quote has nothing to do with this post.  I’m just terrible at writing hooks.  Trying to write a good intro makes me think back to that scene in Frasier where Professor Tewkesbury asks Frasier to treat himself, and Tewkesbury quickly knocks down the distracted directions Crane takes.  “Stalling”; “redefining the problem”; “re-diagnosing.”  And it ends where I tend to land: he can’t help himself.

So.  I might as well get on to the damned thing.

Wednesday.  I’d dreamt two things in particular: being challenged, and losing (sort of).  And like any dream interpreted after the fact… dreams are weird.  After all, they are the side effect of the brain refreshing and repairing itself.  The meaning we have for things in our activities of the day may be brought up again as bonds gets strengthened.  And then there’s the influence of entertainment.  There’s something about the way Gotham releases inhibitions… or used to since I’ve not watched a full episode as it’s still being run dead against Supernatural, in the same time slot.

In Wednesday’s dreams, you had your share of mundane elements such as sitting in a movie theater… if I have it right because those elements became vague when I woke up.  But the first thing to stand out… and I can’t believe I’m writing this… I’m in a scene, on set, acting with… Donald Trump.  He is an actor, after all; you should have seen him at the “State of the Uniom.” 😉 Toward the end of the dream, he challenged me to a race to the bottom of a stairwell.  I had my dream tactic of dropping down the center— gripping on to railings, and falling again— but he was somehow matching my speed.  In real life, he challenges the country’s standards all the way down to Constitutional order itself.  And in dreamworld, it seems he would challenge the laws of physics!

In a latter dream, I was on social media. …Which makes it clear that I’m on twitter too often for the wrong reasons.  By the end, I was on my best friend’s twitter, and… apart from the Stranger Things media, there were the reinforcements in how she’s moved on.  Let’s just say, it was both realistic but also out of character how better-represented the content was because… how can I say it?  In real life, twitter sucks.  Normally, the fact she’s moved on wouldn’t bother me.  I know attachments can get toxic, and I have to deal with that.  But I’m not normal, and I still think of her as more than just some friend half a world away; she is someone I love dearly.  Not even being able to physically hug her, it doesn’t hurt me.  Just… like twitter, it sucks.

So, yeah.  The dreams were telling.

Well, thanks for getting through this useless post.  Sweet dreams, everybody! 👋

Rest

Next Sunday: full moon…  Last night: it took a while to fix the color balance for this photo… Today: downloaded MuseCam for manual white balance! (Photo taken Nov 29 5:27 p.m.)

Yesterday and Sunday I slept longer than expected, that I rose later in the afternoon.  (Of course both days I went to sleep between 8 a.m. and noon.)  These days it’s like I need to sleep in, sleep the day off, sleep it away— just go to bed and not get up for anything.  Getting to sleep and having no reason to get up is not without its obstacles Continue reading Rest

Follow Your Heart

It appears some people can just never be happy with what they have or what they’re offered.

But everything in life is temporal—all a matter of consent in the past, and you have to move on.

Each individual has his/her point of view, past, set of struggles, strengths and weaknesses.  And though it is applied differently (sometimes very differently), love, down to its guts is all the same.

I certainly fell in love with the concept of love.  And it’s a complete mess when you actually look at it—the things people do for it, and in the name of it.  But it’s everywhere.  It’s what bonds life together, and it can appear without apparent logic.  And it’s something within you too.

Sometimes, the mind is confused about it.  We never actually fall in love with other people.  We are attracted to objects, to congruencies, to pheromones, to concepts and the concepts of people, but we don’t completely fall in love with the dynamic of a constantly changing organism.

But we intertwine on spirit.  We bond with objects, such as a child holding on to a Teddy bear.  We bond with practices, as we strive to do a better job for achieving better results.  And sometimes we yearn to find our respective soul mate—the “one” we are always with in some way or another, completing our sentences, etc.

Living life anew separates us, but life allows us to grow.  Life allows us to make mistakes so that we can learn and graduate.

You will be challenged in matters of the heart.  You will lose parts of yourself that you may wish to have back.  And regardless of where you are or whom you’re with, the struggle to live will only get tougher.

There are set limits to life (at least with our genes).  Embracing materials will only promote a living with said materials.  (And your body cannot become an iPhone.)

Yeah, we all make mistakes, and we learn.  But how we learn is important too.  We can’t always tell our heads apart from our asses.  And we can’t always tell the mind apart from the heart in our actions.

I’ve had my share of struggles.  But the worst of them stemmed from the fact that I wasn’t living (or living properly).  It’s still painful, being physically trapped to this day, but I must hold on to the heart that I have, because love will take me to where I need to go.  It takes time and courage, and respect, but I have to trust my heart.  (And I should probably be sleeping as it’s taking me too long to edit this whole thing.)

Following what you love and loving what you do is not a trick, nor a “hack” (and I’m sick of the word “hack” being thrown around these days as if it’s cool; yeah, Creativity Hairballs, from The Daily Post).  No, it’s a necessity.

Why would you give up on what you love to do?  For money?  Money is but a figment of material, and it is gone before you know it.  Bliss?  Bliss is like sugar—you’re getting disease with that sweetness.  For a lower risk of pain?  I’m sorry, but pain is going to happen one way or another; if not now, then later.

Yes, some passions can get you killed.  And I mean, literally killed if history has taught us anything.  But even then, heartless mistakes are what led up to such aftermaths in the first place.

On the spiritual side of things, on that journey, there is love and there is life, and those two things are not always in the same boat.  You could be terminally ill and have the best of spirits.  You could be in the best of health and be a complete asshole.

Life is temporal, but love is forever.  Insecurities for bad reason(s) can only hold you back.

It’s okay to reflect on fears, but it’s destructive to give in to them.  There were times when I felt the world was falling apart.  But then I embraced one of my dreams, and a whole world opened up for me.  I found a muse, and began to write a fiction novel.  And I changed with it, as it challenged my fears and my ideals.  I learned a lot in a short amount of time, and I endure to keep that process working.

But sometimes it feels like what we have is not enough.  Maybe never enough.

It wasn’t enough for me to read a passage of text where Christ made a matter on living about a choice between living well or living long.  I couldn’t embrace that for some reason.  I know now that his answer did not apply to me directly, but to the person he was answering to.  Just another case in point where I’m an idiot, especially since Christ’s lesson is still valid, generally speaking.

But that spiritual fulfillment is a spiritual necessity.  And once the spirit has moved on, it’s gone.  We have to move forward, even if we choose to endure holding on to someone whom is dying.

You have to live your life.  You have to manage to grow.  You must be able to breathe and eat in a day.

Follow the love that’s there, either within or relative to you, and try not to get petty.  And try to put the platonic first.  Loving art does not mean humping paintings.

Okay, I’m done.

Thanks for enduring my post. 🙂

Because I Dream

pen

So I decided to be a writer of sorts.   Very late in the game.

I write now in part because it makes me happier that I do.
And hopefully the reader would be too…when I get my better work out there.
And though I’m not a successful person, I can’t quite say I’m pretending.  (And so unsuccessful I’ve nary (never) the money to donate so Cristian can have his own computer.)

Where I fail to create in real life I may on the page.
Being unable to grow (’cause of my isolating environ) doesn’t stop me from writing about growing characters.
Being unable to have children (’cause no one lets me into their heart…and then some) doesn’t stop me from writing about a couple who have one.

Of course it’s very difficult making it realistic.  But I’ve always been an observer, picking up on things.  I can plot and spot errors.  (Documentaries help too.)

I actually don’t want to follow in the footsteps of other writers, making obvious fiction.  I read The Fault in Our Stars in June; boy is that—despite the technical realities—unreal.  Teenagers that sound like John Green.  (It’s still a good book, though—deserving of its high popularity, even now.)

I want to make something that the reader thinks is real so I can get them to feel something…to be involved and welcome, and to dream too.

Ultimately, I write because I dream.
The hope in my dreams is often so much stronger.
I am there, to a degree, more free.  And when it benefits, all the better.
I can aim for a wonderful perspective.
Too often it’s been a “dull, gray world,” loaded with denial, menial work and poorly executed ethics.

But our dreams always open opportunity.  They push ourselves to conquer our fears and…well, hope.  It helps us in writing our own story, whether or not we acquire the skill(s) to put it on the page.

I know one of my dreams helped me in school— er, summer school, that a story I wrote based entirely on a dream I had.  A hand sticking up in the middle of the floor.  (Yes, strange.)

So go ahead.  Jot your virtual experiences down.  You’ll find that they’ve aided you in some way.  After all they are inspired by actual events.  (And “inspired by actual events,” like the movies, inevitably makes them ‘fiction.’  The Quiet Ones is not a great movie.)

As a small child…

Maybe writing about one of the dreams I had this morning will get my mind off of again wanting to delete everything and just…

This is post #74, not counting the “Freedom” one that was deleted some time ago.  Heh, even freedom in a post isn’t free.

~~~~~~~~~~

(school bus interior)

It was lucid dream— the kind of dream where you know you’re dreaming.
I was small child in form; I had my adult mind (or close enough).  A different child altogether— a different person.

There was that routine of walking from the school grounds, followed by finding the right bus, and at the last moment.  Some of the other children may have missed their chance.  Doors close, vehicles drive off.  Without catching any numbers (like randomly picking any of them), the doors to one of the two remaining buses opened for me.

And then there was that finding a seat, but there were no problems, socially or otherwise.  I chose to sit in a seat already occupied to a degree— such smallness of the children.  The depth was a little weird— three children could fit a seat, and that number felt standard.

The dream was vivid enough that I could just pull out my graphing calculator, and browse through the menu, with very consistent results.  Knowing I was dreaming, I continued scrolling, testing things.

But still, like all dreams, there were elements that were completely unreal; it took consciousness to realize how several items I came across just don’t exist in the real world I experience.  There were several programs and features I didn’t add to the calculator.

Then, something happened, to which several of the children, including the one already sitting in the seat I chose, went toward the right of the bus to look.  It would be that “in the moment,” where the adrenaline or difficulty to imagine woke me up before I could catch any sight of what had happened.  But it wasn’t quite like that.

The math nerd I am, I instead went on testing the fast mathematical abilities one would have in-dream to perform routines that aren’t easy to do on paper, let alone in-head.  The kind of thing I did during an exam… in English class.

Approaching Winter (dream)

encouragement or housefly,
a couple
had strange links between them.
they could seem inseparable,
yet they were separate;
it was distant,
the relationship, physically apart.
it would be that fly
on the wall to see
what connects
the neighborhood and sea,
with shores of ice,
the little private islands
known as driveways.
not completely peaceful,
just not violent today,
nor confrontational,
communicating like brothers.
but the links grew apart
in the heat of other things;
they drifted.
seemed the chain, with
the initial links the strongest
obviously held something
no longer.
because like the housefly,
it would last
no more than a week
in relationship time.
and now that fly would lose
its bond with the world
to catch glimpses
of messages and blurbs
in memory only.

liberty to a fictional character?

Book Binder

“If you had the opportunity to control (your partner), would you take it?
What’s the logical end to that scenario?”

Ruby Sparks is the R-rated coming-of-reality story of an introverted man and the character he’s written come to life. The “fractured fantasy,” with satirical elements is both sweet and creepy, as Ruby, the colorful woman of Calvin’s literary, boredom-solving and hole-filling dreams, starts to physically rewrite herself after the initial appeal wears and their ideals clash.
The film stars two twenty-eight-year-olds: the film’s writer, Zoe Kazan, and her off-screen boyfriend of five years, Paul Dano. The parents (Annette Bening and Antonio Banderas) have their own “transformation dilemma,” but with real influences, not alterations via pen or pencil. From the start, Ruby isn’t real; but the consequences are, and Sparks takes on the challenge that separates itself from movies like 500 Days of Summer without, of course venturing off into sci-fi or horror. (It’s a comedy with only one unreal factor.)
Directed by the married couple that did Little Miss Sunshine, Valerie Faris and Jonathan Dayton, Ruby Sparks is the first deal in a while that didn’t go wrong. “I couldn’t fathom the idea of coming out with anything I loved less,” Dayton said to Colin Covert, of McClatchy Newspapers. “A film is two years of your life, so you’d better love it deeply and be ready to carry it with you the rest of your life.”
Part of the story’s focus is on a relationship’s losses: the loss of self during, and its end. “I have felt very defined by the person I’m with, by their idea of love and of a person worth loving,” Kazan said to Covert. “In the effort to live up to that in previous relationships, I’ve lost track of myself a little.”
The fantasy of the lover is the reason for the missing background for Ruby. “I feel like we all start with the idea of a person before we get to know them as we fall in love, but it feels somehow different for men than it is for women. That’s reflected in our culture in a movie … where you see the man’s perspective on the relationship and not so much the woman’s.”