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Tuesday, November 30, 2004
I came home, put my stuff down, went online and chatted. I was looking at cars, and it just dawned on me. I have no idea why my brain would link cars to this dream, but for some odd reason, my synapses had a moment of great activity and I got a hint of my dream. A wharf. How the hell one connects Evo 8's to Wharfs, I have no idea. Pier 20 (ish), Embarcadero, SF. What the holy hell did I dream about? I don't really remember the full dream. But first of all, some qualifying details. I've beat the fact that I hate CV to death. SF>CV yeah yeah. Oddly enough, I can finally see the "bright" side of moving here, although they are few and far in between. I have nothing against anyone that I've met (and didn't want to kill), but in my mind, i've glorified the very memeories of my past to the point in which they are immutable over the years. This happiness I've imagined isn't entirely real, I will be the first to admit that. However, through my visits back to the city and hearing about the exploits of my companions, I can easily say the merit of the past isn't counterfeit. Point being, this dream was obviously going to lead to a memeory, no matter how hazy it was. So here's the wharf. Nothing really around. I remember a restaurant and I was with myself walking about the wharf. The restaurant was one of those which had a huge window so pedestrians could see the patrons. I remember walking by and looking in and seeing someone I knew, (names will be omitted) due to privacy's sake. Nothing new there really, dreams of meeting people you've known in the past is quite normal and not post-worthy on sleepyones. But no, this was different. In what sense? I can't really describe it, other than the fact that the feeling of reality was apparent in this dream. The only emotion missing was pain, everything else was there. I believed this dream. I lived in it. I went around with my friend around the Wharf and we talked. There eventually came a point where the dream became unclear but I remember the ending of it. We saw a sailboat and wished to board it. My friend got on and I was about to jump on, but the cold morning woke me up. Half awake, I was still emerged in the world of my dreams. I was desperately trying to regain conciousness not in reality, but in the dream. This wasn't a dream where I learned to fly or I won a million dollars and I wished I could stay dreaming. This was a dream where I was convinced my reality was what was in my head. Absolutely convinced to the point where when I woke up I was in utter shock that it was all a dream. I felt an enormous rush of sadness. The brain is quick to accept reailty and the line between the lies and truth is simply a realization away. But I wanted to go back to that Wharf. At that very point, I would rather have died than wake up. I guess I was running on pure emotion with a complete lack of logical analysis. Now, many hours later, I have a lingering feeling of sadness and nostalgia. It is exponentially lesser a feeling than after the first few moments of conciousness, but it lasts nonetheless. It scares me that something untangible as a dream - a moment of unconcious thought could provoke such a reaction from me. This is my life and it is wonderful. However, this is my life, and it is filled with bitterness and regret. I am not heartbroken and I am not in poverty. I am simply living in the past. It is perhaps one of the most tortuous phases of my life so far. I've been through a lot, I can honestly say. Not as much to be tainted by the cruelties of the world, but to honestly know what cruelty exists. Regret and the question of "what could have been" is a pain which whittles away at your soul. It consumes you and controls you. I live with the joys which I am blessed with, but there is always that nagging feeling of nostalgia. It is horrible due to tha fact that you know what you've lost. You've experienced what you've lost, but it is something you can never, ever, through any amount of money or hard work regain. It taunts you with memories but you still look ahead with melancholy. Its a sense of happiness causing pain. Such utter hopelessness with no ends. That is the emotion which provoked such a reaction. I just needed to post about it, that's it. It's too much of a feeling of relenteless knawing if I didn't. Not for entertainment, not for pleasure, nor conversation. Just let it be. I asked to die this morning, to go to a place which doesn't exist. Only heaven may grant that to me. Until then, I will embrace what I have and distract myself enough to forget the time when I was truely happy. Stephen at 11:05 PM | |