Hello, all. Sorry I haven't posted here in a while. I've been finishing up the Spring semester at school, finals, papers, and all that good stuff. I haven't really had much time for opining on various topics. I just turned 23 yesterday, so that is a nice way to bring this term to a close and to start moving forward through the Summer. 

Although I have had some rapid ups and downs lately (which I will dive into in future posts), I have managed to keep a firm hold of the things that I find important in life. Things are advancing, and rapidly. I can envision a somewhat stable future for myself, at least for a while. And that is a positive feeling, however superficial it may seem.

I can't wait to start again. In the meantime, enjoy one of the many insightful quotes from one of my favorite and most inspiring people, Alan Watts.

Dream Log: Life Cycles

As of this moment, the family dog that has been with us for just over 13 years now, is still very much alive and loving us as he rapidly advances through accelerated time. I love him very much, and I’m not sure how I will handle his passing when it eventually comes. I’ve only begun to think about it before pushing it out of my mind. It will be a very hard time for me and all of my family. He is the greatest dog, always there for me. I’m tearing up just typing this out right now. 

In my dream, he has left us. He is lying there, lifeless and still. I can feel an overwhelming sense of mourning bearing down on me. Someone else is with me by my side, but I am unsure of who it could be. Someone close, yet hidden from view. We gaze upon his body for some time before making a move to take him to the burial ground. 

Before we can do so, his body begins to warp and shift. It begins to shrink, changing shape and color. It isn’t long before he has reverted back into infant form right in front of our eyes. We are stunned and staring, speechless. And it isn’t just his own self as a puppy, either, but some new breed that I can’t quite identify, because it changes rapidly before me. I don’t get a chance to really grasp what is going on before he jumps up, full of life and boundless energy, and bolts through the doorway out of sight. 

As sad as this dream was at the beginning, I feel that it ultimately has a very reassuring message. When one life ends, another begins. I am comforted in knowing that, and will bear this in mind when the time comes. I love you, boy.

Dream Log: Black and Blue

I am lying in bed. It is late morning, approaching noon. The light from the sun is clear and warm through an open window, and the whole room is ignited in white. 

As I roll over onto my side, I realize that I am not alone in my bed. I am greeted by the gentle curves of a woman’s body beside me. Her face is guarded by a wayward arm, but I know who it is. I take a moment to soak it in, to linger on the reality of this scene. 

After a while, she wakes up. Our eyes meet, and she smiles. Arms entwined, we embrace each other, softly rubbing noses together as our faces move in and out of focus. It is then that we hear movement and voices outside of our room. I sit up, instantly alert and nervous about the situation at hand, but then I feel her soft touch on my back, and slowly fall back into the milky bedsheets. 

We softly giggle as they move around, up and down the hall on the other side of the door. She puts her fingers to my lips with one hand, caressing me with another. I softly kiss her, slowly working m way down along the curves of her body. 

As I reach her navel, I open my eyes to see a big, purple, blackened bruise. I look up to see her response, but she doesn’t notice, doesn’t react to my touch. She just lies there. More bruises appear along her side, her belly, and her legs. I caress her, but there is still no reaction. She just smiles down at me.

The door is shaking, loosening its hinges. Soon, it will fall open under heavy weight. I bring myself up to meet her gaze, and I kiss her strongly one last time.

Dream Log: Discarded Man

A chill, autumn evening greets me as I stand before an intimidating wall of trees. The cool breeze blows the dead, dry leaves over the tops of my shoes. I look over at my best friend standing beside me with his hands in his pockets, and he gives me an encouraging nod to make my way into the forest. 

Fast forward a ways in, and the sun is on the verge of slipping beneath the slopes and bringing night upon us. I don’t know where we are going, but the steady incline gives me a weary feeling, and I’m not sure where it will level out so that I can rest. My friend moves ahead, and I fall behind. 

It is at this point that I feel the ground soften beneath me, and it becomes increasingly more difficult to pick up my feet and carry on. I look up the side of the hill, and my friend motions for me to keep going. He is so far ahead of me now that he is disappearing into the shadows of the trees. 

Finally, night is upon us, and only the washed-out blue remnants of day remain. I have a flashlight, which I switch on in order to see. I hold the light out and find that my friend is nowhere to be seen. All is quiet. When I try and call out to him, my voice cannot be heard, no matter how loud I try to be. 

It is then that I feel a firm grip on my lower leg, pulling me downwards. I turn to see long, metallic fingers grabbing me, and those fingers belong to a man made of scrap-metal, garbage, and other discarded items. His arms and legs seem to be molded from old crutches, and dark clothes are stretched over his body. He, too, is struggling to climb the hill, and using me for support. I try to shake him off, but he does not let go. He grips me with his other arm, and I bash him with the flashlight, but it is no use. He simply will not let go. 

I look up ahead of me to find my friend again, and this time is standing only a few feet from me. He is looking at me calmly, nodding ahead and motioning for me to keep up. I can only look at him and shake my head as the discarded man drags me down.

Dream Log: Fire and Pain

I am standing by the train tracks behind a house that has belonged to my family for generations. It is a the bottom of a long, shallow hill. The tracks go onward to my left and right, running away into my periphery. All that there is to see, is myself and my family on this summer evening. 

The sun is setting behind the tree up on the hill, and the sky is illuminated with the fading hues of blue, orange, and violet. The air is cool, but humid. I can feel the presence of family members around me, both close and distant, but through the fog of my dreamy eyes, I cannot see their faces clearly. It feels as though this is a special time. 

And then we hear it; the sound of metal rolling on metal, the evolution of a primitive devise employed by man’s lust for progress. The train car flies by with incredible speed, much too fast for the era it belongs to. It is a caboose, the antiquated-style seen in so many westerns and adventure movies. It is the last thing you see as a loving hand waves goodbye and disappears in the void of time. However, this particular car is empty. As are the other, numerous caboose cars that scream past so quickly every minute or so. My family and I laugh and cheer. This continues for some time, as it happens in dreams, until there is a noticeable lapse in time, and the event has worn out its welcome. 

At this point, I look down the tracks to see yet another car coming down the tracks, only this one is spewing flames from its doors and windows. I then hear a sound from the opposite end of the tracks, and turn to see another caboose roaring down the way. There isn’t much time to react, as they are upon us in seconds, colliding with such force that shrapnel and debris are flung about. I hear yelling and screaming amid the explosions, and I duck and cover as best I can. 

The next thing I know, I’m inside a house - not sure which, though it doesn’t feel like the one from before - that has caught fire and everyone is fleeing to get out. People are in a panic, and grabbing their things as fast as they can, tripping over themselves in the process. The walls are covered in flame, and I’m pushing people out, yelling at them to go outside. The last thing I remember is seeing people flee the house through a doorway wreathed in flame, and I feel the scorching heat on my face.

Shouldering the Ladder

I need to get this out of my system. I had to drop one of my classes a couple of weeks ago. I made the decision to spare myself the consequences it would have had on my GPA. Dropping the class has left me with night classes two days a week and one online course. I’m not currently employed, so that leaves me with a lot of time to sit around and think too much. It’s depressing me.

Sure, I’ve gone out of my way to have a good time, both alone and with others, but at the end of the day, when I’m at home sitting at my computer, the anxiety starts to loom over me - a haunting shadow that only serves to remind me that I am so close to finishing school, a yet so close to personal failure. These last Summer and Fall semesters are going to be the hardest, if only because of dreading what comes afterward.

I think it's rather silly that I should be afraid of freedom. Finding a job isn’t that hard in theory. The hardest part is persevering long enough to find something satisfying. It is too easy to become discouraged, and much too hard to overcome that feeling.

I’ve spent a lot of time essentially doing nothing of real academic value over the weekend, and I think that’s perfectly fine. However, it has effected my performance in these areas over time. I realize that I need to dial it back in order to stay focused. Waking up this morning with a mild hangover and lack of sleep ensured that I didn’t make my meeting this afternoon. I wasn’t worried about that, though. I just felt tired, and by association, depressed.

My muscles ache, and I’ve done nothing to earn that feeling. No matter how much water I drink, the back of my mouth feels scratchy and irritated, much like my eyes. I think it's the dust of the mating season. 

I tend to become depressed in the springtime. I think it’s because there is the notion that it is a time of rebirth, renewal of life, and so forth. In that sense, I feel that I have not found anything new in myself, or a least nothing that holds personal value. 

And then there is the implication of romance, which I do long for, but so often find that it is seldom worth the time or the effort. Everyone is looking for something different these days. Nobody will settle for anything less than perfection. Oh, you’re human? You possess natural flaws and suffer from the inherited human condition? That’s too bad, I was hoping you would be right for me. I refuse to encourage the company of others who provide anything less than my personal ideal. This is the voice of a selfish generation. There’s nothing wrong with having standards. I’d be a hypocrite if I said otherwise. At the same time, though, it seems like fewer and fewer are willing to accept other people for who they are. It doesn't mean you have to love them, but show some compassion every now and then. A little bit goes a long way.

Am I frustrated? Yes. But so is anyone else in these shared circumstances.

I feel that the best solution is to shoulder that ladder - to carry my personal goals and progress alongside me as I move forward step by step, day by day. I just have to keep my balance and hope that I don’t lose my footing on such an uneven trail. Eventually, I will have traversed it to the peak.

I will become the mountain.