I get depressed at the impossibility of many of my old dreams. Not so much because those dreams are not actually attainable in this world, but more so because I’m at a point in life when many life markers are now past and so, being no longer imprisoned by childhood life, I no longer dream like I used to no matter how hard I try. With all my great fantasies, logic rudely interrupts and haughtily states, “Don’t bother, the world doesn’t work that way.” I back down to this so called logic when in reality I don’t know why logic is sticking its weasel of a nose in my dream business anyway. So what if I want to build dream worlds where all my needs are met at the exact times I need them to be and where people say what I need them to say and shut up when I’m not in the mood. So what if I manifest what it would be like if someone I shouldn’t-have-a-crush-on-but-do actually wants to hang out with me and even brings me a flower in exchange for my company. Logic comes in again and says, “you can’t spend all your time in perfect worlds, if you do, you’ll never know what it is really like to be surprised.” Well logic has a point, however he forgets to notice how many times he incorrectly uses the word ‘surprise’ in replacement of ‘disappointment’.
In my latest lull, I flashed through my book of stars at light speed, taking note of how neatly organized the constellations finally looked as I blew by. Along the way, I danced a few steps along the edges of the brightest shapes and I couldn’t help but to try in vain, just once more, to grasp the bulbs that have been burning bright for perhaps too long. All that I loved but sadly lost and hated but was forced to find still radiate despite my efforts to smolder them with crushing fingers over my palms. Panic is my only savior. With panic at my side I am at once reminded not to linger too long in memory’s gaze, not to soak up all that I can neither touch again nor fix. With Panic I become bold and brave enough to turn away from Passion’s siren call. But Panic is fleeting, he is only there to pull me away, back into the safety of the orderly world. And there I always end up, stranded in the emptiness of his departure, half happy to have gotten out with my emotions intact, half tempted to go back and somehow recreate all those moments of the past where I really felt alive.
There are so many things that I won’t do again because I’ve learned that they aren’t for me or that specific types of situations really aren’t going to get me the results I would want. But the beautiful part about it all is that I can just live it in my imagination, where, if I don’t like the outcome, I can ponder up an alternative or two or three all while sitting at my desk at work, taking in even more fuel for my dream world.
I woke up two months ago and it was all brand new, the light shook my hand with a smile, changing everything so that nothing before felt as if it actually happened. Then freedom set itself in through my calmer routine. Once the stresses of busy times subsided and I could sit back and reflect on the things that used to bother me, I found that not only did they not bother me anymore, but I also couldn’t quite remember why I was bothered by them in the first place. This joyful forgetting has happened before.
Liberated, I’m ready to go explore again. I just can’t yet, but I can taste it in my imagination. This tinge in my mind sets in only when I am not engaged in conversation or distracted by some other task. It is torturous, the constant salivating over something that you know you can obtain, the hungry knowing that so much time must pass before the harvest, and the painful tingling of possibilities of what will happen in the mean time…
I sit and go about my everyday life, routine after routine, carrying the thoughts of what has been and what could be both floating simultaneously with every movement and every word. Dreams have turned into strategic scheming and gathering of data of how of how to get where I want to be.
I must admit there is still one thing bothering me. But i think it is normal to be bothered by being told to go away before you have been given a proper chance. I don’t know how long it will take until my psyche stops tossing that thought into my completely unrelated existence.
Every once in a while I come across people with certain characteristics that I want to experience more of. Often times it is because their manner of exchanging communicative signals and social games is similar to mine, so the conversation keeps going even if nothing of useful substance is actually being said. And key, we both enjoy it, or seem to, because we keep doing it.
Infatuation evolves out of wanting to interact but not being able to get enough of the interaction. So the mind essentially improvises, to my dismay. Now the person ceases to exist to me in their real form. I unknowingly create an extra-added layer of perception, which I end up rationalizing as real because my mind is great at making up perfect scenarios to fulfill the excess emotion that isn’t properly stimulated by the external world. It creates confusion between whom I’m actually thinking of and whom I’m actually in the presence of. This makes me nervous, because I start having difficulty acting normal since I don’t actually know the person well enough to know if how I perceive them is actually how they are. Thus how I want to behave is held back in fear that I perceive the situation incorrectly. The remedy: to actually hang out with the person as much as possible until I find that one thing about the person that I absolutely cannot put up with. This dulls the emotional need to incorporate the person into my thoughts. Once they are out of my thoughts, I’m free of the person I was hoping they would be.
This is long over due, to the point where this should have been my first note. But I had the urge to pull Proust from my book shelf and read his opening paragragh/sentence to “Days of Reading” and I still so full heartily agree. I cannot say it better. There is just some nostalgic essence in remembering the many books I kept my nose in. I understand why they want children to read, more so than ever, because I can draw on experiences that I never actually experienced to aid my waking life.
I feel a sadness for it actually. I cannot get back to that place in my mind, I cannot revisit those stories as I first experienced them because I am no longer at that stage. I no longer escape life into fantasy because I’ve managed to merge my fantasy with real life and I am content. Therefore I seek no solace, no need to reach into another world of make-believe. Now I am merely interested in cool concepts and stories that guide me into deeper understanding and meaning into my actual daily existence. I am at one side excited about all I learn about in the real world beyond my home town, but at the same time depressed over my inability to connect with characters and events of stories long past. An entire world of existance taken away from me by time and experience. I’m forced to grasp to what I can, desperately for some peace of mind to avoid becoming like those jaded folks who tell me that fantasy world never existed in the first place. Oh believe me, it is real, I have my personality to prove it.
I just had a crazy dream that I was being held hostage. Like literally i just woke up and typed this… i’ll edit it later, maybe…. I just wasn’t allowed to leave. I remember the date was june 11th because the guy asked me if I we were doing something today and I asked, “why because it is june 11th or because we just need to go out. “what is june 11th? they guy asked. I just shrugged because I really didn’t know, but but i felt like he should, he said “June 11th is your day” or something like that. The guy kept coming and going and in the beginning we were in some sort of hotel and he kept going in and out of the hotel and there was someguy who was trying to catch himdoing something but was furustrated and showed me the data out of his machine and he still couldn’t catchhim doing anything . That guy eventually left. I think in the beginning theabusive guy was talking with my parents and they liked him. But slowly, by the june 11th point I was isolated. He bought other girls to stay too, and they thought they were better than me until I asked the other girls if the abusive guy had ever beatenthem and one girl described her situation just as I was remembering mine. He was hitting me with things. From there I was determined to leave and started gather all the keys to various houses. Then my sister brought my dog over and I had to try and figure out how I was going to get the dog out with me. I had already gathered my most prized possessions in a specific place and was hurrying try to collect more plastic keys that needed assembly so he couldn’t get into the place I was going. Then I look downstairs over the balcony and Hannah had just driven up she said “Woman!, just get in the car right now, let just go, lets just go.” I grabbed a pile of papers and money which were my most prized possession as well as what ever else I could fit in my arms, the other girls were in hannah’s car and we had to hurry because he was coming home. I couldn’t get in the car properly because she kept moving forward. I finally got in and the other girls in the back seat screamed he’s coming, he’s coming, just then he noticed that we were escaping and pulled out a gun and started shooting at us. At that point it turned into a comic book with just colorful scenes of us getting shot at in the car with bullets bending all around us, while we were being shot at in the car, the scene was being mixed with a past scene of when he had done something similar of killing a bunch of people before in some large mansion where the peole were running down the main foyer with seas of bullets passing them. Then my alarm clock went of even though it is a holiday and I can sleep in, all because I forgot to set the alrms to off last night.
There is a certain pattern to daydreams that I’ve taken note of lately. As with anything that has been occurring for ages, but only recently has become worth noting, this pattern has become a problem (without the negative connotation). “Problem” meaning simply something to solve or get something extra out of because the pieces just don’t fully make sense with my current mode of thinking.
The pattern is as such: a outside occurrence (trigger) gets me thinking of some story to keep my mind occupied or distracted. The topic is of no consequence, the only criteria is that it fills me with some sort elation and intense need to play out the entire story over and over until all the loose ends are figured out and I have one linear daydream. The process is the best part, I get to feel all sorts of emotions which my everyday life doesn’t have (perhaps I don’t actually want in my everyday life) and I’m the one creating the story so I can imagine all sorts of possibilities that are off limits to the put-downs of outsiders. Of course when I encounter a situation in these daydreams that I dislike, I can still play out the drama, but then later decide that I wouldn’t want that to happen so I can go back to any part in the story and recreate the ending from there. I imagine I could write real stories this way… I would just have to record my voice because typing takes too long. Who knows, people may like it, the only problem being that I use real people as characters in these day dreams so I’d have to disguise them somehow. (I know, I’m not supposed to mediate on real people, I know I know, bad habit, because it distorts my perception of who they really are…but that is for another note)
Anyways, so that is the daydream pattern. Probably not too dissimilar to your own. But the “problem” comes along when I realize that my end product daydream is actually obtainable for me and I would really like it to happen. There is one piece that lets me know whether or not the idea is actually capable of happening: The beginning. Often these daydreams start as some sort of life altering event occurring that takes me into a whole new world or stage of life. Like, Prince Charming shows up and I suddenly don’t mind giving up my single freedoms… that sort of “outta the blue, completely change of behavior and outlook on things” type of cheesiness. (Day dreams are full of cheesy scenarios, don’t try to ly, I know yours are too, I blame Disney).
The thing with “the beginning” is that it cannot be planned as such. One cannot plan sending in a resume in response to a simple Craigslist job ad and suddenly having the job of your dreams, because things like that tend not to happen on cue. But once you do have the job of your dreams you can work with it, but there is no viable way of getting it suddenly or with luck.
What I am saying is that those sudden things you would need to happen in your life to get you to the next phase or step cannot be planned for because who knows if and how they could actually start to happen. But sometimes you do actually have a “beginning” that is reasonable and involves simple action on your part to get the ball rolling. Those are the viable daydreams to focus on, because you can actually make those happen, or at least take steps to see if you were right in believing that you would actually enjoy it if it did happen.
So “the beginning” is actually the last step in the dreaming process for me. I’ve got to play out the normal, nitty-gritty aspects of an idea to see if I like the idea before I can even think of where to begin, otherwise I would keep starting a whole bunch of things only to find out later that I don’t actually like doing it. And I’ve done a lot of pretty awesome things in life so far, so I don’t doubt that this method didn’t contribute to all that. There are probably other ways of getting me into action, but so far, my mental forecasts have done the job well enough.
I think my habit of falling in love with the idea of things isn’t helping. Well it does help because it allows me to construct an ideal picture to guide my path, but the planning and discovering of what elements would be perfect to put in my situation distracts me from other things. Gosh, I’m trying to say that I shouldn’t fall so in love with ideas, yet all my support to that statement points to “I love falling in love with ideas.” sigh… I just love it so I’m just going to keep doing it. There is no rational way of saying that I shouldn’t dream so much, because dreaming has in fact proven to be the catalyst of all my travels.
But it poses a problem when I am not sure whether I love someone, or just love the thought of them. It is a tricky way of thinking about people. Because whatever data I have gathered is filtered through my brain and my dreams are end products that I use to see if I’m on the right track. If too much negativity manifests in my mind at the thought of you, then I take that as a sign that this isn’t working. If I get a positive reading, then we’re good.
Data selection is key here because when I have a good reading and I’m really enjoying the thoughts someone provokes, I tend not to want to hear anything that will spoil my inner fun. So if I think I need to gather more fuel for my fire (i.e. information), I will still chose to find positive things to outweigh any negatives I happen to run across in the process.
Love is strange in that it has a built in component that makes me refuse to find reason not to love someone.
Anyways, I do not see that it is a bad thing if someone is in love with the idea of a person; however, if that is the only thing about them that makes you love them, then you’re not really in love with them at all. You’re in love with the parts of them you can create. So this Pygmalion effect essentially is misdiagnosed as love, probably because of the euphoria and sense of completeness that is only attainable in my mind…
I watched a documentary about dreams recently and it got me thinking that perhaps my brain has a love affair with dreaming. I’m often not fully paying attention when I’m awake because my thoughts gravitate to more interesting scenarios which may or may not be actually happening… in other words often my dream world is far more interesting to me than real life. This accounts for much of my behavior like my so called “spaciness” and wanting to be alone so often (I can follow my own train of thought without having to explain it to anyone as well as not have to follow their social rules in the process).
So that is a practical explanation for why I continue to be lost in a daze much of the day. But I am thinking that from a more physical assumption, perhaps I am not fully awake. Like, I am thinking that if our brains have certain genetically programed patterns of sleep that cause dreaming (this specific documentary said that REM sleep is for practicing and preparing for future situations based on data it processed during non-REM sleep) then if I am not fully waking up then my daydreams are running in similar patterns to night dreams. Then anxiety about a made up situation that isn’t a real life danger, would be the day time equivalent of a nightmare.
From this prospective, I can see why people have a difficult time being in a good mood when they worry about stuff that actually will never happen to them. If you can’t always wake yourself up from a nightmare because you think it is really happening, how are you going to wake yourself up from fear…especially when you are convinced that you’ve got to prepare yourself to face this fear?
I think it will help to remind yourself that in your waking life you’ve not always as awake as you think you are.