Archive for the ‘Dreams’ tag

Waking Life

So I stepped into this Neo world, whose skin is mist covering iridescent pearl.
I catch a glimpse of this shimmery thing, the star hanging on this rear-view mirror;
reminiscent of Orion’s constellation just moments earlier;
when the sky was clear and clouds not seen, I stare in admiration as stars do inspire.

Watched Waking Life for the second time, on the second day. Again, I feel so much awe. Life is… now. It is also eternal. It is also momentary. Time, is like an elastic ozone of permissive life – of continuous opportunities to exasperate and extricate an affirmative ‘yes’ to the question of being ‘one’ – with eternity, of finding immortality.

The most profound, verbose, discourse of existential psychology and the memento of dreams; capturing in lucid transcendence – the human attempt to understand and tame it.

I Love Dreams (& Soft-Toys)

I absolutely love dreaming. Makes sleeping-time worth the sleep. There’s something about having no worries, ‘living out’ utter randomness. God’s ‘creativity’ is so ‘perfect’ in this world. I pray every day that I dream dreams that are meaningful, wonderful, awe-inspiring. But if utter randomness, and imbalanced-body-clock-bad-body-chemistry takes over, and bad dreams appear – it’s nothing to cry about. In that state of semi-consciousness, I’ve realized that I can sometimes dictate where my dream takes me. Yet if I can’t, and if I wake in the midst of a bad one, I stop, I say a pray, then I give it a few moments to let it sink in me-now-slightly-more-conscious state of mind, then I get back to sleep – now I try to ‘press’ the resume button on the upper-middle-quadrant of the right hemisphere of ze’ brain… Okay, maybe that’s just an attempt at subjugation. But if I do continue where I left off – what better time than now, to correct it Otherwise, it’s time to move on to your next dream (given we’re in the next REM cycle).

Thank you Lord for dreams, they make no-sense sometimes, but one can hope that it makes more sense than the senseless world we sometimes live in. Help me appreciate the life you’ve given me and the opportunity for rest. Although I wish for a longer state of dreaming, I know I have to do the things I have to do in the non-dreaming world. May you then, speak to me when I do dream. Coz that’s like the only time, my mind doesn’t get in the way of things you want to say to me. Or I hope so. So speak to me like you did to Nebuchadnezzar, just don’t make me wonder too much. Maybe, make me understand dreams like Daniel. May I dream, then live and live in full abundance because I’ve dreamt, and in that dream, you spoke to me. Told me things, and shown me greater things. Bless the days, and more so the nights. Thank you for the power of the mind, and also the powerless mind when it comes to orienteering dreams. In our dreams, we’re all the same. We are all wanting, all needing, all seeking, all fearful. So take over MY mind, my dreams, and make it whole. In Jesus’ name, Amen.

And o I love the very-old-fur-flattened-puppy-with-a-belly-named-’puppy’ that’s sleeping next to me when I go to bed. He’s a representation of motherly love, and innocence. I think mum bought me that when I was like… 10? O my.

I wrote another post a long time ago on Dreams.

Watch: What dreams may come, featuring Robin Williams

Read about man’s attempt at dream interpretation mostly of the Freud kind. Then read a lil about Daniel’s interpretation.

Virtuality

This is so surreal, yet not lacking in any visceral sentiment. It is deeply felt.

O how I wish I could create, correct, colour, rehabilitate certain aspects of my life – past and present and future. I wonder about choice and the arbitrary decisions we make daily. I think of the realm I am living in, and however it may seem – bleak or vivid, surely serves a greater purpose of rehabilitation – to an ideal state of conscience and being. May I choose that which brings me closer to that Ideal.

I see myself being attracted to both characters – their desires and their needs. I relate as much to him – creating, in the hope and need to save; as much as I relate to her, in the helplessness and reliance of some being, that is greater than this limiting dimension of which I happen to be living in. I think I tarry being in a coma more than I am being a creator. I am crawling in a dimension, navigating my way through paths in hopes to actualize and be mesmerized by the creator of the flower, than the flower in itself. But thank you for flowers nonetheless.

In the lives of others, I wish to be like the creator, or at the very least – a semblance of colour. In the lives of others, I hope I spill colours – colours of one refined palate that is so vivid, you cannot not find life in that which is coloured. I hope the things that I touch, model and make take on colours that carry a saturation and vigor that is enough to rouse the living dead. Yet, to rouse is not my doing. I should only colour and colour well. Or maybe, I should colour myself enough, so that the very things that I touch, be coloured by touch, rather than a brush.

O how I rhyme Selah.

This I sign, May I, may You – have I to colour and be alive.

Where would I wish to wake up tomorrow?

This is one pretty cool video. It’s… simple, graceful, dreamy, happy, hopeful.

Fifty People, One Question: Brooklyn from Crush + Lovely

Video is a project called 50people1question. Nice.

Bedside Popcorn

Imagine walking into a cinema without the need to queue for a ticket. Now as you pass the entrance to the screening halls, there is no one to tab your tickets – you don’t have a ticket! You walk pass. As you walk upon stars on the embroidered carpet of red and blue, you emancipate into a state of calm. You’re now lying on a chair that seems so much like, a bed. You’re wrapped in a cosy warm blanket. You open your eyes and wonder how you skipped the door to the hall, and the search for your seat’s row and number. As you lower your head, it rests upon a marshmallow of a pillow. You exhale in a state of bliss.

You find yourself walking along a street, or sitting somewhere else talking to someone, or observing some de’javu moment. You forget you were in the cinema. You’re now in the movie. You’re the director, you’re the cinematographer, you’re a DVD player, you’re the actor. Every scene plays out in perfect randomness and to some extent, you know what’s going to happen next. But sometimes, you don’t. And anxiety takes over. But that’s part of the suspense, the thrill.

You evanesce into another state. This time, your eyes – slowly adjusting to the light around you, blurness dissipates into a make-up of a table, then the wall, books, and then some. Your move your arms and feel the fur on your cuddly puppy. You smile. You’re awake. You breathe. You shut your eyes for a brief moment to harness whatever strength you find in attempts to remember that scene that just happened. The one that felt so profound, yet so random, yet queer, yet mystical, and sometimes euphoric. Sometimes, sad, emphatic. Sometimes, weird. You open your eyes to realize you cannot remember anything else but snippets. Now, you grasp a movie that has converged into a mere picture. This is one’s fragment of imagination – literally.

This is a dream. You smile. You go back to sleep. But you feel guilty. You wake. You sit up. You smile. You wish. You live.

Dreams – Fragments of Imagination

It’s 12 noon. I find myself lying in bed, wanting to continue sleeping. It’s that alluring. No these are not lewd dreams. These are the kind that when you wake, you wonder about – how utterly random the elements; the people from your past or recent, the faces you remember, the locations of the dream, the buildings, the ‘mis-en-scene’, the way you get from point A to point B (my dream-self is usually unable to head anywhere faster than I can ‘process’ a walk) are placed together.

But most of all, the plot – the story, is the most captivating. I suppose I retreat into an asylum of dreams in an attempt to find figments of organized thoughts, in the clutter of randomness. But some randomness in it’s sheer arrangements, like in a kaleidoscope – creates patterns – that when seen as a whole, is thoroughly beautiful. How fascinating is our God.