And then there's me. . . | Permalink

I dreamed last night of a possible future, or an inverted, parallel universe, of the deformed reality I live in. I was in the living room, walking towards the kitchen, I think. The weather was great, sunny and warm, although the house seemed to be a little cool. As I approached the kitchen I looked left, towards the east, to the back garden. I remember the purity and life of the lifeforms hanging on the tree, round, tender leaves, reflecting light and covering a humid soil of low altitude vegetation, grass and weeds. There where a few leaves falling to the ground in peace, silent. The sky was partially cloudy, or maybe foggy, there was something gray between the mountains far away and the wide blue yonder.

Then, I looked left, in a natural way, as if I was just looking at the hills far away. In the distance, just a few meters away from me, on the backyard, a few friends where there looking at each other. Then, they came very close to each other and kissed passionately. I felt alien to the situation, but deep inside there was some joy or something about to implode. I saw a few looking at me to salute me, and I saluted them to, from the windows, transparent as fine air. I then looked right, and came upon other friends, but they looked much more older than they do in reality. We sat, and we began to chat. Nothing came to mind, as I talked to them with an incredible feeling of happiness. I remember them saying that I and another friend nearby where impossible to be taken apart, that we looked kind of similar and had great bonds with each other.

When I woke up, a sudden feeling of sadness came upon me, as I tried to recover the images I had seen in my dream. My brain deletes those dreams from my memory, but I know that deep inside remains of them are left behind. As I read in a spanish girl's blog, our mind seems to expire and decay periodically, when we come upon different situations that suggest different reactions, when we suddenly change our field of view and transfer to a different reality and another tomorrow, the elongation of the past. Our mind, brain, body and soul must be in peak conditions, and therefore must be "updated", as they expire and decay in time. As I read in a text I found in a cultural panflet in a local newspaper: equilibrium is the brain's perpendicularity. The brain controls the chemical difussion throughout the body to create equilibrium, to keep it stable and together, much of what you experience or whatever stimulates you creates a reaction within your body, and such applies to almost everything that exists. In human terms: you receive as much as you give. In chemical terms: matter, mass and energy aren't created neither destroyed, but transformed in a never-ending cycle. In alchemical terms: you must first present something of equal value before you recieve something else. In my own terms: whatever you give or emit to your reality and world will give you something of equal value, purpose, magnitude or feeling.

And therefore I ask myself: what have I given to my own reality and world, that has given me this condition an atribute, to be so lonely and obssesive? Why do I go further into stuff and situations that isolate me from the social frontier of the world? And why am I writing this stuff? Why am I still here, when I could have died many days ago, many times, again and again? Why is this reality so blurred and confused, and why is there so hostile situations and people in this world? That is because I, you and we are humans, simple yet complex, nervous and rapidly reproducing creatures in a delicate grain of sand and water in the middle of the cold and darkness of space. We fight for things, why? Because we are humans. War, famine and murder are human traits, as well as love, passion and respect. Humans are more complex than we think they are. Humans emit energy that affects matter and society, which gives life a more spicy flavour, the human drama and its magic. Humans are great animals, you know. They are cute little creatures, but sometimes they get too angry and fuss about anything.

And then there's me, as some sort of interviewer. I have so many questions about life and death. I observe my own dreams, universes created by mechanical responses in my brain, and compare them to the world I live in. Sometimes I think reality is a dream, it looks too beautiful to be true, yet too horrible to live in. When will it all end? I don't know, but meanwhile, I must live.