The Gunk

Everyone has those days when they just feel alone, helpless, stressed, and it seems like no one understands. They just need that one friend to give them a hug, and to say they care. They need that one person to just talk to, to listen to them. But what if you can't find that friend? What if you have absolutely no one to talk to? It happens sometimes.  Sometimes you just have to get through the gunk by yourself.

But... I want that friend.

"Life Story" by Tennessee Williams

This is a poem that has been hitting me hard this week, so I thought I'd share:


After you've been to bed together for the first time,
without the advantage or disadvantage of any prior acquaintance,
the other party very often says to you,
Tell me about yourself, I want to know all about you,
what's your story? And you think maybe they really and truly do

sincerely want to know your life story, and so you light up
a cigarette and begin to tell it to them, the two of you
lying together in completely relaxed positions
like a pair of rag dolls a bored child dropped on a bed.

You tell them your story, or as much of your story
as time or a fair degree of prudence allows, and they say,
Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh,
each time a little more faintly, until the oh
is just an audible breath, and then of course

there's some interruption. Slow room service comes up
with a bowl of melting ice cubes, or one of you rises to pee
and gaze at himself with mild astonishment in the bathroom mirror.
And then, the first thing you know, before you've had time
to pick up where you left off with your enthralling life story,
they're telling you their life story, exactly as they'd intended to all
along,

and you're saying, Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh,
each time a little more faintly, the vowel at last becoming
no more than an audible sigh,
as the elevator, halfway down the corridor and a turn to the left,
draws one last, long, deep breath of exhaustion
and stops breathing forever. Then?

Well, one of you falls asleep
and the other one does likewise with a lighted cigarette in his mouth,
and that's how people burn to death in hotel rooms.

Fear

I'm scared. I feel so unable to control anything that's happening around me, and it terrifies me. I want to be able to help, to heal the wounds of the people I love, but I can't. All I can do is sit here and cry. I'm scared. Tonight is one of those nights. I know that because of tonight nothing will be the same. Too much happened tonight. Too much was remembered tonight. I started out sad, then angry, and now I"m just scared. I'm scared because I know that everything that happened tonight calls for me to be stronger than I've ever been before. I have to be strong for them. I'm scared because I can't help thinking...who's going to be strong for me? I'm so scared.

Gorp

“Gorp”

By: Jake Roberts

The planet of Gorp is your standard, three-dimensional, life bearing planet. An atmosphere composed primarily of nitrogen, oxygen, and carbon dioxide. Water, major landmasses, trees, and all that jazz. In fact, Gorp was very similar to Earth in the fact that the dominant life forms were intelligent, and had active and vivid imaginations.

However, there was one key difference: on the planet of Gorp, the use of one’s imagination was severely restricted by the domineering government. Every dwelling was equipped with a number of devices that monitored the brain activity and patterns of every inhabitant. Anyone caught using their imagination was severely punished, by one of two means - a transorbital lobotomy, or death. The choice of punishment was entirely based on the enforcing officers mood, so needless to say, death was the primary means of enforcement.

Now, the primary reason for this punishment is due to the fact that a great scientist of the planet Gorp, known as Gopter Galazuk, theorized and later proved that all things created within one’s imagination came to be a reality at the center of the universe. Gopter explained that this was the reason for the universe’s exponential rate of expansion. With each new product of someone’s imagination, the added mass made it necessary for the universe to “make room”. Gopter later came to the conclusion, that unless the planet of Gorp put a stop to the use of imagination, the universe would stretch beyond it’s limits and implode. A frightful tragedy indeed…

200 years after this discovery, and 178 years after the Imagination Prevention Acts (IPA) were put in place, the planet of Gorp was a monotonous, but functioning society. People had come to terms with their place in life, and had been taught from an early age how to repress their vivid imaginations.

However, at the household of Gerky and Glema, the planet of Gorp suffered its first major tragedy. The story goes like this:

At the youthful age of 173 and 145 years, Gerky and Glema conceived their first child, and this child was named God. God was an unusual child, bearing only 3 eyes instead of the common 4, and having only two arms and two legs, instead of four. Needless to say, poor God suffered in his formative years. Constant ridicule and snide comments made this boy very withdrawn. And on the planet of Gorp, being withdrawn was practically a mark of death. Without the constant distraction of meaningless gossip, fitful arguments, and childhood love, repressing your imagination was as difficult as pulling a hippopotamus out of your ass.

So needless to say, Gerky and Glema were very concerned about their son. God often ran home crying out of his three eyes ‘Why can’t we use our imaginations? Why are we stuck in these primitive cages of reality?”.

Gerky scolded “repressing your imagination is for the good of all Gorpians! It’s for the good of the entire universe! Stop being so fucking selfish, grow a quad (because male Gorpians had four testicles instead of two) and deal with it!”.

God ran out of the tube (equivalent of a earthling house) and into the woods. Gerky leaned over and kissed Glema’s head, sighing “He better get his head on straight, or we have to spend another two years conceiving a son…”

God sat in the woods, crying away, sitting in the fetal position, and actively struggling to repress his imagination. God finally gave up. After seeing this terrible thing that had happened to his planet, he did the unthinkable. In just two hours, God unleashed his imagination! He thought of a world, very similar to his own, where the dominant creatures had two arms and two legs, just like him. However, he only gave them two eyes, so that God, with his three eyes, would be the “normal” one, and all those creatures would be freaks. God imagined that all these people worshipped him, creating an entire religion that revolved around himself. God wanted to be in control, so he imagined a planet in which it was so. God even created something he called “the Holy Trinity”, which dedicated specifically to the triangular shape of his eyes.

And then God did the one thing that would end his world, and in time the entire universe. God gave his creations unlimited use of “imagination”…

Just as God added that finishing touch to his masterpiece, a narrow spike entered his back and exited through his neck. But, I can tell you one thing dear reader; that poor bastard died with a smile on his face.

God was killed because the sensors at Gerky and Glema’s household caught a whiff of the imagination use, and authorities promptly arrived, killing Gerky and Glema on the spot without hesitation. However, it wasn’t until after the couple was killed that the authorities realized the use of imagination was continuing. Woops. Using two portable sensors, the authorities triangulated the source, found God, and disposed of him just as they did his parents. However, the damage was done…

At Gopter’s Lab, he noticed the universe was expanding faster than ever before. At this alarming rate, the universe would collapse in exactly 2,012 years. Even after the source of the imagination boom was located, efforts to reach and neutralize the planet were fruitless. Because of the unlimited use of imagination that God’s “humans” had, the efforts to traverse the universe were like swimming up a river with a hateful current: slow and tedious, and usually ending in failure. The few ships that did manage to make it were identified by the humans as “UFO’s” and secretly destroyed by the human governments. All efforts to destroy the planet were abandoned after hundreds of attempts, and the Gorpians were resigned to their fate.

The imagination of one young Gorpian, known as God, gave me life, put these words on this page, and in two years, will promptly take them away forever.

Sustenance at College

Just ate an entire chocolate bar.
Feel sick, sub par.
Is it normal to dream about that RCA
In inappropriate terms
then worry about burns
from your friends that said he was hot TOO,
I mean, come on.
Yeah sure, let's study.
Let's watch the clocks melt like in that
painting
a place with less air
more to breathe, less to care.
Come over, let's eat
and then fall asleep.

I miss the summer
I miss the freedom
of sitting in a haze of smoke
with my closest friends
sometimes we went where our feet took us
sometimes we took to the open road
but wherever we were
it was perfect

together we became
something more than ourselves
sure we ate too much shitty gas station food
but we walked for miles and talked for hours
about everything that mattered and some things that didn’t
listened to music and sang ourselves into the songs
laughed and cried and kissed and slept
and though it was never said
we loved each other more than we loved living

summer is gone but
someday there will be a place for us
don’t tell us to change
as long as there is love we will
be

I am spending September in UK. I was visiting my friends in Northern Ireland in Belfast and had good time with them. Also I was a little bit in London and now I am back in 'my' city in Oxford. This weekend, very good friend of mine was getting married so I went to his wedding and I had great time. English wedding? Hm.... Lots of fun but also pretty boring in comparison to Bosnian weddings. :)

Two more weeks and I am back in my beautiful country, my dear Bosnia and Herzegovina.

Have a great day all of you at the Blog. :)

What if my flesh is suburban sprawl?

Bought a bike today. Can't ride it, but it looks pretty cool in my living room. Sometimes things that are useful are beautiful when unused.

solitude

solitude, once craved now avoided

running driving sleeping

smoking going and going

books, once a vice now forgotten

glances thinking staring

gathering dust and toppling

hollow feeling beaten out by womp

hunched sitting smoking

rain and going and going

anxiety like a collar too tight

heartbeat twitching shaking

always cold and dozing

desire like a fork in the heart

obvious unavoidable inevitable

beaten down for now

hope like sun in the city

elusive peeking teasing

have to keep going and going

Music in the Night

It’s 2 in the morning in Fredericksburg right now. It’s kind of cold out, I guess Fall is finally making its move. I’m sitting outside the apartments with Derek, Megan, John, Sarah and Caroine. It’s a Sunday night, we should probably be in bed, but instead we’re sitting here. We’re talking, smoking cigarettes, listening to music, sometimes putting it on pause to play the guitar. Nights like this are what I live for. I’m most alive when I’m with my friends. I’ve met so many awesome people at Mary Washington. It’s unbelievable. Just a year ago we were all strangers, but now I can’t imagine my life without the nights when we all come together. It’s beautiful. It’s contentment. It’s just…friendship.

What is a Friendship?

Friendships are strange things.

This weekend I went and visited my friend and roommate I met this summer, while I was studying in Mexico for five weeks. I had a great time visiting her at her school, and it was fun to see her again. However, although I'm sure we'll keep talking throughout the year, I probably will lose this friendship eventually. It may sound pessimistic to say that, but to me it's the truth, and it's not a bad thing to stop being "friends" with someone.

Sometimes it's just seems odd to me, how some friendships are so temporary, yet they make a big impact on your life. I may talk with my roommate from Mexico for awhile, but I have no idea how long we'll be friends.  We might not make the effort to visit each other again, or we could persevere and become long-life friends.

I had a friend in middle school who I was literally wasn't even friends with for two full years, but we hit it off great. Three and four years later she came back to the D.C. area and I visited with her again.  We were very different people, from very different backgrounds. She had a military life-style, constantly on the move, and grew up in a catholic setting. I always lived in Fairfax county, with a mother who told me hell wasn't real and spoke about reincarnation and communication with "the spiritual world." And regardless, we had strong similarities that made our friendship meaningful and significant; both of us were father-less, and we had the same since of imagination and playfulness about us. We discussed concepts and philosophy (or what we thought of philosophy, at only being 12 years old). For some reason she made an impact on my life, and she's just one of those people who I will always remember, and I don't know why.

My roommate from Mexico, who I visited this weekend, may also be of the same sort.  I think of how now I hardly talk to anyone who went to my high school, and it's only been a little over a year. It's interesting how friendships fade, and we meet new people. It's also interesting how some friendships never seem to falter, even if you only see the person once or twice a year.  I think either way these friendships are important. Whether or not it's someone who screamed and yelled at you and stopped being your friend, to whether it's that girl who's stood by you since you first met.

Either way, it's important not to regret relationships.  Even if it ends badly, every person who you interact with impacts you, and their relationship to you is significant. I still care about my friends from the past, and although I may not talk to them now, I wish them the best in life.

What I learned in High School Spanish

“How vain it is to sit down to write when you have not stood up to live.”
- Thoreau

All my life people have told me that I should be a writer. They’ve always expected me to be an English major. I’ve decided there’s a lot these people don’t know about me.

I write every moment I’m alive. But not with pen and paper, not with my computer, not with a type writer...instead I write by living each moment in my life as a moment worth writing about.

I skipped Spanish class one day when I was 16. The first day of Spring made my forehead hot. Every time I closed my eyes I felt the sun on my face, leaping from arm to arm. Dan felt it too, so we fled the school's hallways into the sun’s arms. We escaped to the field.

We call it Narnia, the field next to Woodson High School. A secret path off the trail leads to sprawling fields of green, a rare sight in Fairfax, Virginia. In the Spring, the sun dances across the fields. Finally content, we sat down and pointed out cloud shapes to each other. Sometimes we saw the same thing.

Then I saw it, a baby deer asleep in the grass. Its fur shone because it was so bright outside. I stood next to it, counting the white spots on its back, wanting so badly to pet it. Instead, I stood there with my hand over my mouth. Dan took a picture with his phone. Sometimes later on we remembered the deer and looked at the picture.

I think in that moment, when time froze and words failed me, my life changed forever. Ever since then, I’ve done everything I can to make sure every moment in my life is one I’ll remember forever. One day, I’ll sit down and all of the sudden know that I’ve lived my life to the fullest. I’ll have each day fresh in my mind, think over each thought, and just know. I don’t know what I’ll know on that day. Whatever it is, I’ll smile, sit down, and finally st write.

One day I skipped Spanish class. I forgot about reality for an hour and loved the sun with my best friend. Nature made me feel safer than the thick walls of Woodson. And when I saw the baby deer, I felt awe for the first time.

When I grow old and look over my shoulder, I won’t remember a single Spanish class from my junior year of high school. I’ll always remember the sun though. I’ll remember the fields. I’ll remember standing speechless over a baby deer on that Tuesday morning in April.

And this is how I write my life. I live it. I live it as a story I might tell one day.

Because in the end, I really don't care that I can't say 'deer' in Spanish.

Slip Slide

I find myself surrounded by negativity. Or huge voids of thought. Smashing repeating laughing. Crying sleeping vomiting. All I want is happy people. Happy people happy to be here. Because I'm not and its a lot harder to act that way when no one else is. But here I am, alone in my room, writing, because I can't handle either world right now and I have no other choices. I've closed myself into a box where I have to act and the act is getting to difficult to maintain. The act is requiring more props. Props that are destroying the act, holding it up unsteadily and dangerously, holding in on these pillars of sand. It looks stable. It looks like something to be desire but underneath its all drinks and drugs and cigarettes. It's a constant fucked up moment. It's red bull and aristocrap and american spirits. It isn't happiness. Hollow smiles and hollow laughs. I don't think I'm alone.

Tears

Sometimes it just feels good to cry, even if you don't know why. Many people frown upon tears and say they're a sign of weakness; that whatever it is, it's been long enough, and there's no reason to cry.  But whatever you're crying about, whether it's something that happened yesterday, or whether it happen fifteen years ago, or whether your just crying for no apparent reason at all, it's all the same thing, and no one has the right to judge. It's important to reflect, and think, and feel.

When someone says to you "don't cry, everything will be alright." I say, "Do cry, let it out, it's alright if you don't know why you're crying. It hurts, let out your sorrow, let out your happiness, let out whatever emotion it may be."

When we bottle up our emotions, we are asking for trouble. Speak to yourself, talk to yourself, get to know who you are. When I ask myself who am I? Sometimes I don't know the answer, and other times I have an idea. But it's important to get to know yourself, to let yourself in, and understand. Sometimes it's nice to talk to someone else, and sometimes it's nice to keep things to yourself. But don't keep them from yourself. Everything we do is apart of who we are. It's okay to make mistakes, to make achievements, to make nothing. For nothing is something, in its on way. Tears can mean a lot of things, and it's okay to sulk. It's okay to want to be alone, to be upset, to be angry. Don't suppress your emotions, because by suppressing it only makes the emotion harder to express. Go ahead and let it out.
Cry. Laugh. Shout. Hug. Scream. Love. Vent. Smile.

"There is a sacredness in tears. They are not the mark of weakness, but of power. They speak more eloquently than ten thousand tongues. They are messengers of overwhelming grief and unspeakable love." -Washington Irving

Meditation

Stop whatever you’re doing and open your eyes. You might not think they’re closed, but trust me. They are. Stop whatever you’re doing, open your eyes, look out your bedroom window, and breathe. Breathe in the trees you forgot to notice yesterday. Breathe in the birdsong floating through the windowpanes until you can hum along. Now, step outside and breathe in the earth beneath your feet. You may find yourself short of breath, so take off your shoes. Take off your socks. Breathe in, and you may find yourself making up for lost time. Breathe in, and you may find yourself gazing at the trees for hours. Breathe in, and you may even find yourself. Just take a deep breath. Meditate.

To My Friends

This week has been a roller coaster. Perhaps it sounds pretentious to say so, but I feel older than I’ve ever felt in my life, and wiser and more aware than my 19 years of experience should merit. But something has remained constant that has made all the difference: the selfless, supportive, and simply amazing people I call my friends. Sometimes we take our friends for granted. But if we take the time to look at our real friends, those who will remain our friends forever, we see what an amazing gift they are. My friends are the most beautiful people, inside and out. They have ideas that will change the world and they are not afraid of sharing them. When something is wrong they are capable of channeling all the love in the universe to make things better. I love that I can cry with them just as easily as laugh; just as easily make plans to get dinner together as make plans about how we are going to leave our mark on this earth. We have been through so much together that when one of them says “I love you” to me, the phrase is more powerful than when it is uttered in the most romantic love story. They hear about anything and everything, but never complain or say that they don’t have time. They recognize that even if there is nothing they can do or say to immediately help or comfort, the simple fact that they are there listening makes all the difference in the world. To all my friends: I love you more than you can possibly imagine, and I am so thankful to have the privilege of walking this earth with you every day.

The Lining of the Streamlining of the Stream

I have always been an editor.

Other people's words have always been my element, the river water that I can sieve for hidden particles of gold. But in the depths of my own writing, I have been worn down into a restless miner. The same quality that makes me an exacting editor for others makes it a daily challenge for me to compose things fluently and honestly from and for myself. I edit as I write--for every half a sentence ahead, I delete two clauses behind. Confidence shifts like the shoreline.

Though I cannot believe in an easy external fix (the problem starts and ends in my own head) I have decided to purchase an old manual typewriter as a way to encourage writing first, editing later. My instincts will be inked and I will have to press the keys forcefully, with conviction.

Thoughts like these have recently altered my conceptions of quality and patience.

It took way to long to write this.

The Egg

A story by Jack Sharp

Found through You Might Find Yourself

I would not call myself a very religious person at all, and I don't believe that this is actually what happens, but it's a nice thought and definitely has something nice for everyone to take away from reading this piece. I hope you enjoy it for what it is.

________________________________________________

You were on your way home when you died.

It was a car accident. Nothing particularly remarkable, but fatal nonetheless. You left behind a wife and two children. It was a painless death. The EMTs tried their best to save you, but to no avail. Your body was so utterly shattered you were better off. Trust me.

And that’s when you met me.

“What… what happened?” You asked. “Where am I?”

“You died,” I said, matter-of-factly. No point mincing words.

“There was a…a truck and it was skidding…”

“Yup.” I said.

“I… I died?”

“Yup. But don’t feel bad about it. Everyone dies.” I said.

You looked around. There was nothingness. Just you and me. “What is this place?” You asked.

“Is this the afterlife?”

“More or less,” I said.

Are you god?” You asked.

“Yup.” I replied. “I’m God.”

“My kids… my wife,” you said. “What about them? Will they be alright?”

“That what I like to see,” I said. “You just died and your main concern is for your family. That’s good stuff right there.”

You looked at me with fascination. To you, I didn’t look like God. I just looked like some man. Some vague authority figure. More of a grammar school teacher then the almighty.

“Don’t worry,” I said. “They’ll be fine. Your kids will remember you as perfect in every way.

They didn’t have time to grow contempt for you. Your wife will cry on the outside, but will be secretly relieved. To be fair, your marriage was falling apart. If it’s any consolation she’ll feel very guilty for feeling relieved.”

“Oh,” you said. “So what happens now? Do I go to heaven or hell or something?”

“Neither,” I said. “You’ll be reincarnated.”

“Ah, so the Hindus were right.”

“All the religions are right in their own way,” I said. “Walk with me.” You followed along as we strolled in the void.

“Where are we going?”

“Nowhere in particular,” I said. “It’s just nice to walk while we talk.”

“So whats the point, then?” You asked. “When I get reborn, I’ll just be a blank slate right? A baby. So all my experiences and everything I did in this life won’t matter.”

“Not so!” I said. “You have within you all the knowledge and experiences of all your past lives. You just don’t remember them right now.”

I stopped walking and took you by the shoulders. “Your soul is more magnificent, beautiful, and gigantic then you can possibly imagine. A human mind can only contain a tiny fraction of what you are. It’s like sticking your finger in a glass of water to see if it’s hot or cold. You put a tiny part or yourself into the vessel, and when you bring it back out, you’ve gained all the experiences it had.

“You’ve been a human for the last 34 years, so you haven’t stretched out yet and felt the rest of you immense consciousness. If we hung out here for longer, you’d start remembering everything. But there’s no point doing that between each life.”

“How many times have I been reincarnated, then?”

“Oh lots. Lots and lots. And into lots of different lives.” I said. “This time around you’ll be a Chinese peasant girl in 540 A.D.”

“Wait, what?” You stammered. “You’re sending me back in time?”

“Well, I guess technically. Time, as you know it, only exists in your universe. Things are different where I come from.”

“Where you come from?” You pondered.

“Oh sure!” I explained. “I come from somewhere. Somewhere else. And there’s others like me. I know you’ll want to know what it’s like there but you honestly wont understand.”

“Oh.” you said, a little let down. “But wait. If I get reincarnated to other places in time, could I have interacted with myself at some point?”

“Sure. Happens all the time. And with both lives only aware of their own time span you don’t even know it’s happening.”

“So what’s the point of it all?”

“Seriously?” I asked. “Seriously? You’re asking me for the meaning of life? Isn’t that a little stereotypical?”

“Well it’s a reasonable question.” you persisted.

I looked in your eyes. “The meaning of life, the reason I made this whole universe, is for you to mature.”

“You mean mankind? You want us to mature?”

“No. Just you. I made this whole universe for you. With each new life you grow and mature, and become a larger and greater intellect.”

“Just me? What about everyone else?”

“There is no one else,” I said. “In this universe, there’s just you. And me.”

You stared blankly at me. “But all the people on earth…”

“All you. Different incarnations of you.”

“Wait. I’m everyone!?”

“Now your getting it.” I said, with a congratulatory slap on the back.

“I’m every human who ever lived?”

“Or who will ever live, yes.”

“I’m Abraham Lincoln?”

“And you’re John Wilkes Booth, too.” I added.

“I’m Hitler?” you said, appalled.

“And you’re the millions he killed.”

“I’m Jesus?”

“And you’re everyone who followed him.”

You fell silent.

“Every time you victimized someone,” I said, “You were victimizing yourself. Every act of kindness you’ve done, you’ve done to yourself. Every happy and sad moment ever experienced by any human was, or will be, experienced by you.”

“Why?” You asked me. “Why do all this?”

“Because someday, you will become like me. Because that’s what you are. You’re one of my kind. You’re my child.”

“Whoa.” you said, incredulous. “You mean I’m a god?”

“No. Not yet. You’re a fetus. You’re still growing. Once you’ve lived every human life throughout all time, you will have grown enough to be born.”

“So the whole universe,” you said. “It’s just…”

“An egg of sorts.” I answered. “Now it’s time for you to move on to your next life.”

And I sent you on your way

____________________

Rejoice!

I am very joyful person and I explain it as it is a gift from God. People keep asking me how can I be so happy and joyful in every situation? Even in bad situation where it seems that there is no way out of it?

Sometimes I really do not how to explain people, but my heart wants to share with others what I have and what I feel.

So I just want to write few suggestions, for those who wants to be joyful and to really feel it. One question that each one of us can ask ourselves would be:" What does life have in store for you?"

A world full of possibilites and God's promise of peace and joy. So as you embark upon the next phase of your journey, remember to celebrate the life God has given you.
Honor Him with your prayers, your words, your deeds and your JOY.

Henri Nouwmen - " The spiritual life is a life beyond moods. It is a life in which we CHOOSE JOY and do not allow ourselves to become victims of passing feelings of happiness or depression. "

Nothing else to fear

I have started reading a book called "Nothing else to fear!" The reason why I have started reading it, is because all of a sudden I got this strange feeling inside of me how I am going to die soon and I started imagining different accidents. I know it sounds strange and scary, but I knew it is nothing possitive to have in your mind. So as I read this book, I am so encouraged.

It is amazing how we can find answer and encouragemet simply from reading a book. What I found really helpful was that we should only fear Him (God) and then we will have nothing else to fear!

So I do not know have you ever felt like I had, but I know that all of us have some kind of fears. So I would like to encourage you to trust God, because He has a purpose for your life and He loves you so much. He didn't give us fear but He gave us a spirit of faith.

Faith and fear are oppose one another, and for faith to overcome fear we need to know more of the One in whom our faith is placed.

Encouraging verses from the Bible:
Romans 8:31
Proverbs 14:26
Proverbs 1:7
Psalm 34:1-4, 7-9

A Hike for a Mountain

Today I scrambled up a rocky meadow
I felt my heartbeat rapid
I felt the sweatsoak through
Was it the altitude, kid?
Or was it my climbing view

Freud and the Void

So I generally think that Freud is shit, but when it comes to dreams I can’t deny the truth of his psychoanalytical ideas. It hit me in one of those 4 AM epiphanies when finally, after being disturbed for some indefinite period of time, my body finally elicited a physical response to the dream, or perhaps nightmare, I had been having: I woke with a start, glazed in cold sweat, and laid for a few moments staring at the ceiling, trying to recall yet at the same time erase what I had just seen. I had wandered through a wasteland of blackened trees and oil-slicked ponds rank with the stench of decay. In between these physical landmarks there were dilapidated houses, some burning, some sliding down the muddy banks into the darkened bodies of water. In each of the houses were women, men, children, all resolutely refusing to leave. I ran to one house where a woman was standing in a window with her little boy while around them flames raged and pieces of the house blew off in fiery torrents. “Run out!” I screamed. “I can save you!” but she just stared back at me expressionlessly until finally I was forced to turn away in horror as they burned. I ran to another house that was folding upon itself, half submerged in one of the deathly bodies of water. There a woman was clinging to her porch railing as the house was steadily sucked down. I ran over and grabbed her arm, trying to pull her to safety, but the hold just dragged me along with her towards certain death. “What are you doing? You still have a chance!” I yelled, but I was not heeded. At the last moment I pulled my arm away and she sank into the abyss before my eyes. I continued to run among the houses, mad with grief as I saw all of the occupants fatalistically refusing to relinquish their positions. Finally I realized that I couldn’t save any of them unless they let me. There was nothing more I could do.

At that moment at 4 AM, I realized how this metaphor related to my own life beyond the world of my dreams. It is honestly the first time that my dreams have had a clear meaning in the Freudian sense of the dreamworld, but I know the meaning with such clarity as cannot be doubted. There is nothing I can do to help him, as much as it kills me to know it. He must make the choice to run from the fire, to save himself from falling into the void. I can’t do that for him; I never can. Last night made me realize that we can never separate dreams from life, they are intrinsically bound together in ways that are sometimes made manifest, yet oftentimes not. If we listen long enough our dreams will speak to us, revealing truths about lives we never knew.