So, generally I’ve talked about things that I’ve observed so far, but this time I feel you all should get to know about me some more. A little one on one, man to man, (or man to women I guess.) If you ever saw the majority of my poems and stories, you’d find a strange prevailing theme of dreams. And that’s because I have a strange infatuation with them. Not just mental goals and desires, but the unconscious world that exists only insides each person’s head. It’s incredible. The more you think about it, the feats are minds can accomplish. The fact that if we close our eyes and our mind creates an entire world while we’re asleep, we can travel it and if we fall and start to crash into the ground, our body literally jerks as a response. A reaction in reality from the fantasy. People that sleep walk and that have a much stronger reaction to their dreams in reality. I think that’s just crazy, brilliant, fantastic, and wonderful. For the longest time, especially when I was a kid (I’m still sort of a kid I suppose, but anyways,) I just didn’t want to even exist in this place we call earth. I didn’t see anything here I really wanted. What I wanted was unaccomplished in reality, and the only place I found them fulfilled and accomplished was in my dreams. And so I dream’t. That was my life. My creations, my world inside my head was my reality. Looking back, the reason I’m who I am comes a lot from those times. The dreams I would have motivated me later in a way that nothing else could. Because the sad thing about dreams is that they fade. They aren’t reality sadly, and so we move on and are told to forget about them. Dreams are made to appear as just a common thing everyone experiences, a silly night time inconvenience that can just be ignored and forgotten. Which is one thing I never wanted to do. I refused to forget my dreams whenever I had a choice. I would attempt to remember every detail, trying to relive the moment. Naturally, you can’t. That’s the tough part about it. But a part of me relives those moments when I write them down. I can feel the air and stone beneath my feet through the words I can place down on a computer screen or a piece of paper. And so I started writing them out. Because if it gave me the slightest indication of the worlds that existed in my dreams, I would do it within in instance.
Now that I’m older, I’m seeing myself have a harder time not only remembering dreams, but having them. Because the world gets so needy, so demanding, that it’s hard to get enough sleep, much less dream while doing it. The world becomes so massive that it demands every space of your mind, during the sleeping and waking minutes of your life. And so I’ve lost some of those dreams. And it’s been extremely traumatizing to me as I see it happen to me. But I know some of it’s necessary, because I’ve got to help everyone that’s here in reality as much as I can. With everything I have, I want to be able to help people, and if I simply slept and lived for my dreams, I wouldn’t be able to help others see their dreams and reach for them. If I could help other’s reach their potential and seek things that are more than the world and its physical pleasures, then it’s worth it, because I might not be dreaming, but my reality has a chance of looking a bit closer to my dream.
Anyways, that’s mostly the reason I’m infatuated with dreams. I’ve also found they can often tell you things about yourself and your life, which naturally makes me interested in them. My imagination has always been a bit rampant and uncontrollable at times, but it’s definitely a good thing. I wouldn’t trade it for anything. I consider it a blessing that I’ve been given despite some of the frustrations that come with it. Remember the fact that I hate losing ideas and inspiration? Well I also really don’t like losing dreams and their feel. That sounds weird to say, but honestly when I think about it, each dream I have has some sort of feel to it. Let me give you some examples. So if I had a dream where it was somewhere I knew and had been before, it gives me a very familiar and comfortable feel. Usually I feel like I can accomplish things I normally couldn’t in these. When it’s somewhere that appears to be completely different from reality, so like I’m dreaming of another world kind of thing, I get a very curious feel that often is associated with a massive number of colors and sights to see. Once I could have sworn I even smelled and tasted some food during a feast in my dream, and it was this category of dream. The senses in general are emphasized here. When it’s an extremely peculiar setting, like a staircase set in darkness, or a sort of picture frame setting where I’m looking from above or something, I get a sort of wild, peculiar, important feeling. Like what I’m observing is significant. The colors and sights are the boldest in these settings, often some sort of architecture is set apart in my mind that I find. It’s interesting. Anyways, the whole point of that was to explain that sometimes I can remember a dream, but the feeling, the overall sense the dream gave to me can disappear, which is just as upsetting to me as forgetting a dream. Though, it is the thing that is brought back the strongest when I’m writing my dreams out.
This post has been a bit stranger than most. I guess I like dreams because I can hypothesize and experience them in a very strange way. They’re very mysterious, and I like that. Right, so I’ve made it a bit of a habit to add one of my poems to these, so here’s one about what I just talked about.
Forgetting sucks.
I did it again. I’m so original. Right, the actual one is below, sorry for being difficult.
A dream. The nightly vision from the heart. Not the kind of dream that’s sought after, but a dream that’s been lost after you wake up. A butterfly that escapes your grasp, and no matter how beautiful the animal is, it can’t be caught. Images that won’t ever be seen again. A simple vision. The only thing that can capture our hearts the best, and become manifest in our lives, even though we don’t remember half of them. Dreams. Like a lover who is forced away from us, only to be seen on rare occasions. A varying number of scenes, some with haunting consequences, and others with things we only could wish were real. And so we dream of them. Hoping for the scenes, imagining the picture perfect moments of joy. The time spent with a loved one. Seeing the lost return. Being accepted by the rejector. Dreams make these impossibilities or improbabilities reality. Or, so we think so for the moment. We can almost accept the fact that it’s happening. That if we pinched ourselves, we’d still be in that moment. Pinch. Awaken. Yet time and time again we awaken like this, to cruel reality, a crushing, excruciating pinch that feels more like being slapped. So we can’t handle it. We forget our dreams. They fade in the back of our heads as a memory forgotten. And sometimes, it works. We can get over it. We survive the day and keep moving. Forgetting the pinch. Forgetting the memories we might have had, the things we wish could be, because it just hurts too much. How could it be worth it? A man who lives in his dreams, can’t possibly live in his life. But a dream is the blooming of an idea, a thought. And when we refuse to remember it, we shrivel that thought up in an instant. Dreams are essential. They’re beautiful. They’re a piece of art. We should neither rely on them to live, nor should we rely on our lives to live without them. A beautiful romance between what is real, and what we wish was so. It’s only this thought that stops what we want to be real from actually being real. Obviously, this is not for everything. Flying is not possible without the proper equipment, guaranteed. And such is reality, the gravity that brings us back to earth. So that way we don’t get carried away on the wind that is our dreams.
Hoping you have sweet dreams,
Josiah Serravalle.
Supplemental Mentality | 