Not to sound like I’m lacking a certain sense, but sometimes putting aside the factors we have agreed to form normality, could be healthy. It’s certainly healthy for those who seek satisfaction in discovering matters such as those regarding the soul.
I have too fallen into this long ago when my most interesting dream had happened. How many times is a guide literally guiding you towards a tunnel at the end of which you see your own execution from a century ago? Or that’s how much would have been next year, for dream came of 19th of November, 2017.
What did I see at the end? I saw that man dressed in a blue uniform, pointing a gun towards nothing, it would be just him sitting in a room like those from museums, where they place mannequins pretending to be doing what the owners of those clothes use to. Nothing was standing out like his huge, black mustache. That I had to focus on when drawing what that girl back then said was a man in Edwardian uniform. And, God, when I found that picture of the creature known as Yakov, I would hardly believe my eyes.
The same happened with the second dream, the one I had chosen to ignore back then. In a room very large, there was a lot of what looked like wood, and it was crowded. I would be just sitting between two men, extremely cramped, watching and listening to JG trying to talk to someone, explain something. He would later come to me exhausted saying something I don’t remember. H was the cause, the irritation causing him a rough time. If he were to have run a marathon, he would have been less worn-out. I would look up to him, the ones that were by my side moved aside so I could sit better.
What’s to do with this? Not much, except tell it to someone. It was just a dream. But there’s no such thing here. To us, there is just “later”. Things make sense later. How much had passed, that I can’t tell, but they all connect, from what seemed imagination, to a dream, and some cards that come in handy. All of these make a picture not yet to be understood completely, but as minimalist, as it is, there’s a story behind all of those.
What I imagined was another uniform, black. I was tall, well, taller than I’m used to, black leather gloves. It was winter and I was walking. I think it was snowing. Who knows. I don’t know if I’ve wrote about this before. And even if I did, I should again. Whole episodes, experiences, short films, all those are hard to believe, but some flashes alone with no context are impossible to. And it was the first mediation.
The second, the dream, would come later, and so would the memory. Through it I would catch a name that came by so easy, flew by me. From that came the research, which concluded to someone it feels haunting to talk about. He feels real, so real, it’s hard to claim.
What is it to claim anyway, if it’s mine? My person? “It would be weird to dream someone else’s memories” I said, and it’s true. But they overlay so much, who’s who? To invoke splits right now when they have so much in common, the only ones who manifested this way? How could I if not by declaring them both as me, not allowing their existence outside of mine? My selfishness is great, and I try to ignore it, even deny anything that leads to it.
And so it stands, the story, and next to come would be shorter, but a different post. This one is already too long, yet could be longer if I try to make sense of it.
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