Posts Tagged ‘ dreams’

Revelations of Madness…

Posted on February 17, 2009

Finding Reality?

Finding Reality?

I have been so stuck. My brain buzzes wildly yet I am entirely incapable of completing a written rendering of a single reflection.
I believe I am guilty of mentally monitoring and considering the consequence of actually articulating these opinions. I am fearing judgment. And it is wholly paralyzing.

It is not my intention to be disrespectful, but sometimes the truth is thoroughly disrespectful.
When the truth is, in fact, true, it often manifests in the form of total dishonesty.
I attribute this to the fact that “honesty” requires a human intermediary for conveyance.
And I don’t believe humans are biologically programmed to be truthful.

I woke up feeling inexplicably broken hearted today.

Three consecutive nights of negative-energy sleep, (where one expends copious amounts of effort tossing about, and experiences few tranquil moments of actual rest) and I just feel somewhat rejected.

By my bed. By my body. By my mind.
My mind is certainly the root of the problem.
I wish I could find an “off” switch.

So today, I am allowed to freely hate and be openly angry.
Because when you wake up and feel like you’ve just participated in some crude seven-hour dance-a-thon, you are given carte blanche to be disgusted by everything around you. And I am.

I’m fucked up over timelines right now.
I’m thinking that there has got to be a better way to say that.
Admittedly, I have recently been researching this topic for an alternate purpose.
I swear it started out rationally enough.
I hadn’t aimed for self-imposed mania.

But the can is open and the worms are everywhere and I think I’m either onto something or completely certifiable and the line is so thin that it is impossible to deduce with any certainty, which is closer to reality.

I think I was born with a something of an infinite sadness. In more sentimental times, I’ve identified it as a “heart problem.”
And while this may sound unnecessarily dramatic, it does feel like an apt portrayal of my affliction.
I mostly avoid dealing with or openly acknowledging it, because it’s actually pretty disheartening to admit that for the better part of three decades, I’ve known that even my most blissful moments have been tainted with an overarching melancholy.

I used to think it was a sense of foreboding.
A bit of a presentiment or hyper-awareness of the inescapable crash.
I’m not so sure about that anymore.

Now, I am considering the possibility that this feeling, this almost intangible but ever-present void, could be a sub-conscious effort to realign with another plane. Another version. Another path. Einstein himself concluded that time is not fixed, it expands and it contracts. And, time has a vertical dimension. There are many “lanes of time” running simultaneously and multiple possibilities existing in any instant, subject to our conscious and intentional choice.

What if our most “inane” desires and “rubbish” dreams, are not nonsense at all?
What if instead of writing them off, we regarded them as intuitive indicators or directives towards that which might allow honest contentment?
What if that thing or person or idea, that we’ve perhaps “moved on” from, but deep down have never “gotten over,” is less “symbol of insanity” and more “suggested route on a map?”

It is said that single-birth babies, who are actually the surviving half of a twin conceptions (such as Vanishing Twin Syndrome), have been known to have a deep and unrelenting sense of grief due to the loss of their counterpart.
The kicker is that most cases of “vanishing twins” occur within the first eight weeks after conception.    Before we even qualify for “fetus” status.
So, if our dead sibling with whom we shared some amniotic fluid for short while can haunt us, why is it implausible that our restlessness or inexplicable internal constraint couldn’t be a symbol of some grander Universal discord?
Tabula Rasa? I just don’t buy it.

I think it’s fully plausible that by the time we are “born,” we already exist on other planes.                      We’ve already set about another path.
Maybe, our flashes of future and past, and those strange, foggy memories are just helpful hints being passed on by our concurrently existing selves.
Negative feelings could be symptoms of a “tugging” from another timeline.
Those times when you just don’t feel “right,” and easily chalk it up to stress?
Maybe those are actually chemical signals…but we rarely see them as such.

And on dreams…
Should I honestly believe that these “hallucinations,” created by a massively underutilized brain, and manifested in Technicolor through your subconscious are “meaningless?”
I am not suggesting that the answers are simple.
I don’t believe the “Dream Meaning” leaflet in the grocery store checkout, which correlates things like “tooth loss” with “anxiety” or “powerlessness,” holds the solutions, but I simply cannot accept the perception that dreams are devoid of all meaning on a grander scale.
While most dreams are forgotten in those first post-waking moments, what about the others?
What of those full-scale, IMAX style, Holy crap, in-your-face epics, which haunt your mind for years into the future?
Could they be your alternate reality crashing against your current one?
Is all that latent content begging for reaction?
I have fluently spoken languages and written full songs, lyrics, and music in my dreams…in spite of minute details like not possessing the utilitarian knowledge to do any of these things.
At least not in this version of my existence, but could I have been borrowing from another “me?”
Maybe dreams are the equivalent to a brainstorming session for all the timelines…
An open forum or symposium where the best of all realities are free to opine and suggest without fear of critical rejoinder.
I’m just suggesting that it’s possible.

As humans, we use approximately 10 percent of our available brainpower.
Ten. Percent.
Pathetic.

But perhaps, we are using some or all of the “leftovers.”
Maybe the rest of our brains are being borrowed by other realities.
And maybe, this is where certain seemingly dissonant thoughts and memories are actually developed. Then, those which are deemed useful in another timeline are sort of fused and muddled in, with the operational knowledge and thoughts in that correlating plane.
The “suggestions” sort of, merge and try to appear natural within the environment.
And each second, we are subconsciously assessing and choosing to indulge or disregard them. And each time we do, we continue to either follow our current path or move towards an alternative…

Or maybe, I just really need to sleep…

Madness is to think of too many things in succession too fast, or of one thing too exclusively” ~ Voltaire

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However Shall I Be the Queen of New Year’s Eve With No Sleep??!!

Posted on December 31, 2008

Can\'t Stop It...

I lie in bed fully awake and restless. I am trying not to move and adjust too much as I know it’ll disturb him and then there will be two of us feeling as I do…frustrated with me and my mind. My brain seems not to demand nearly as much of me during waking hours as it does in the blackness of night. My thoughts drift through time. Seamlessly blending what was, what is, what could be…

I give in.

I now sit in the living room as the nascent daylight plots its daily coup against the night. Almost imperceptible in this moment, but the clouds are tinged slightly orange and I’ve seen enough city dawns to know that signifies roughly 45 minutes till the city is bathed in the glow of a new day.

For now, I stare at the water. Smooth. Slow moving. Regal, even. The first Ferry boat floats by and I notice that its reflection mirrors on the water and gives it a decidedly ethereal appearance.

This is not good. I am thinking too much. Assuming. Hoping. Trying. Hunting for belief in a mind that isn’t sure that there is even value in such nonsense.

I realize I speak far less than I used to. Verbally, anyway. I am just not sure that what I am saying could possibly be expressed in the way that I need it to be, so I choose not to say it at all. It’s better that way. When I do express and it inevitably gets fucked up, I find myself here. On the couch. Watching the daybreak. Going over. And over. Again.

I try not to highlight books during a first read through. Though it may be argued that the phrases and paragraphs that zing you from the get-go deserve notation, I mostly reserve that honor for a second go-round. I have been unable to adhere to my own rules in the case of Capricorn. At this juncture, I wonder if the whole exercise is futile, considering that my highlights span 90 percent the first hundred pages.

As to what happened…

“Everything that happens, when it has significance, is in the nature of contradiction. Until the one for whom this is written came along, I imagined that somewhere outside, in life, as they say, lay the solution to all things. I thought, when I came upon her, that I was seizing hold of life, seizing hold of something I could bite into. Instead, I lost hold of life completely. I reached out for something to attach myself to… and I found nothing. But in reaching out, in the effort to grasp, to attach myself, left high and dry as I was, I nevertheless found something I had not looked for…myself.” ~Henry Miller “Tropic of Capricorn”

The day has dawned a gnarly gray. I kind of love it. The clouds move just a bit too quickly through the sky and I watch the helicopters land across the water. There is nowhere I can go from here. Not now, anyway. Sadly, my bed won’t have me (or is it I who won’t have it?) and if I see one more infomercial, I may physically cry, so it is here that I remain. Watching the clouds. Seeking the discovery. Highlighting that which appears significant.

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Not Your Mother’s Apothecary Table…

Posted on August 20, 2008

Why Pottery Barn? Why? Tell me why your designs and tips are the holy grail of ornamental style? How have you somehow convinced me that blue and brown with a splash of golden yellow are the only appropriate colors for decor? Why am I so completely intoxicated by your “Artisan Craftsmanship” and your “Jacquard Loom Pillow Covers”? I adore the way you name your “collections” after children born and/or conceived in Cape Code circa 1988. Harrington Lamps, Kayley Bloom Rug, Monroe Pillar Chandelier, Tanner Coffee Table, Campton Armoire. I could continue. I could probably continue for 155 pages of unadulterated delight and overpriced madness, but I have to work. You, Pottery Barn, have prevented such actions for the past two weeks and my fear in this moment is that I may lose my purchase power and we will be separated for longer than I care to imagine.
Pottery Barn, you are the holy grail of Shabby Chic. You lack the pretension of Restoration Hardware and are loads less chaotic than Pier One. You have helped me fulfill my dreams of 144 inch flowing window sheers, and for that you are the quintessence home furnishing nirvana.

Get your Hundi Latterns here!

Get your Hundi Latterns here!

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