It’s is possible that dreams overlap reality? As I drove my car a dream took over all the senses and it was like I was living the dream while I drove but it was my “reality” I know I’m awake… right? I mean as I type this I’m in “my reality” and it was here that my dream overlapped. It’s not the first time it’s happened i just never knew how to explain it till now. It’s not dejavú – it’s not that it happened before, but a man was in my dream was a truck in my reality, a stop sign a door… it overlapped I knew what both were there was definite distinction between the two.
I have a theory/viewpoint on how this “reality” is. It’s close to Mayans and Shamans and how we live in a dream. Everything that happens happenes within, everything I experience is because of the perception that it’s exists – but just like a dream it’s “not real ” but it is at the same time. Like non-duality. Something can’t exist without the other but nothing exists at the same time. I believe in string theory too where everything is connected in energy. If I move my arm I pull on someone else string across the universe. I have that much of an affect. But in another plane it’s not real, but it is.
So anyway as my dreams overlap with reality I find myself having trouble understanding life… what is the point? As I view space we are so minute yet here we are worried about our hair or what clothes we wear. We are so bound by our own gravity we can’t look up to see the stars.
A time in my life where I would listen to this music over and over and over hopin it would stir something in me, courage maybe to get my cowardly self up and kill my self. I hated bein me, I hated having to wake up, feel the way I did atoneing for my actions daily. I hated my life in a way that was so simple it made sense to end it all. What was this purpose? My presence is only hurting things, the planet, life. Another mouth to feed, another person to take care of, another tax payer living to pay bills. As I put the gun to my head I just didn’t understand what was keeping us all here why do we have this “survival” gene encoded in us. What makes us fear? Why do we fear? All I knew was that I needed to go. Not to a far away place where my troubles resided still but to another place of another time, of another field, another dimension.
I had my pick of any gun I wanted- i just separated from my husband (he kicked me out of he house) I was living with my friends ex bf who was a gun collector – most fully loaded some illegal, sitting in this room I choose three. She and he both knew I had been baker acted twice once for suicide, yet they still put me in this room to live till the house we were going to live in was finished remodeling but I had no choice because I had no where else to go… the last time I went home to my family was the first suicide attempt.
So it’s around midnight thumb on the trigger for a long while safety off ready, waiting, I thought “I have nothing to live for, what’s the point? I have nothing, I’ve done nothing,” and I felt worthless… Then it was like a light bulb came on with two things… One; I’d feel awful if they had to clean my blood stains off the wall and two; that’s my purpose; TO MAKE all those questions mean something and my stubbornness kicked in and I thought I’ll make my life worthwhile, I’ll make my life memorable, I’ll make it a point to live. I rebelled against myself. It wasn’t until later I found my way but it was a stepping stone and a promise, I was by no means “better” or happier, it didn’t make me feel any better but I put it down with intention, not cowardness. I put it down knowing the journey ahead could mean more than just paying bills, more than just getting by.
But as I write this here now I see that the last 3 years so much has gotten in my way. And I allowed it. I could give it all up, move away. Never to return. But where’s the life responsibility? How do you tell your brain damaged mother I’m never coming back? Who’s life is in a bad situation… how can I let her life be bad why I try to make mine? So I continue on this path of guilt.
I search, I search beyond myself to find what it is I need. Under the stars, over this hill. It goes on and on. Soon exhaustion takes over me, and I loose control. I need to be fulfilled. So I fight, I kill for food. I steal when I need water. I am human. I pillage for my own life without regard for yours. I reap the soil and suck out it’s life to create my own life. I fight for my own survival. They say it’s survival of the fittest, right?
But what my inner spirit needs, the whole to my very existence, the battery to my body needs I repress. I am human. I hunger for love. I thirst for desire. Instead of finding life within, I take life from the outside. Of course my body needs maintenance but what kind of maintenance is good to a car that has no battery? It can’t even be started. It’s as though we are all batteries wondering why our cars won’t start. We are looking down in our hood at an empty space where we would, could fit but we are looking for outer sources to try to hook up and while something may work it doesn’t quite fit appropriately, or doesn’t lay very long.
So we take things that we think fills our life’s. We kill and steal for substantial feelings. When all we need to do it ask. Everything is provided. Everything.
Yet, our fear hinders our ability to see. Our “desires” of “the hunt” keeps driving us, this minimially efficient battery. But love, true love, our spirit/soul, that’s the true battery to life.
It is but a dream, a perception of the senses that create a chemical compound to create an image or emotion. Like music in a car or a motion picture. How is it that the “energy” from a computer chip creates a sound or an image that creates a real emotion? But it’s not in front of you, yet this emotion from the music or movie feels real. It pulls you in, you get into a funk after a sad or crazy one, one that makes you think.
So what different in a trauma of a dream, and real life? This is in my head – all the senses penatrating my brain. Sight, smell, taste, touch and hearing. All of my dreams are real. How is it that I can’t determine the real world and the dream world? I wake up to a familiar scene but that familiar scene can be one of a “reoccurring dream” so I implore what is the real reality? Isnt it that a scene is so monumental in a movie that it’s pulls you closer into the screen? You can’t turn away because of the depth of your feelings – you have no idea who or what is around you – only this moment in a movie. It’s a moment in my mind of these senses that captivate me in this world. How is it that I feel like I can feel other worlds?
They exist, I’m not talking about aliens, yes those are quite possible – but I’m not all about it, obsessed that they do, I entertain the thought because how is it that I could ever know? Honestly? How is it that I know anything? How can my brain store more or less than yours? How does someone remember something but not another? Chemicals, emotions, feelings. It’s the self. This ego, this soul.
I, I, i, i, i…. me me ME! That’s how. This is hell. This reality in which we are punished from oneness.
Dreams; hell. Senses; hell. Life; hell.
I’m the Bible it says hell is a burning firing pits. That pit in your stomach? That heat when you’re angry? Anger is love’s fear. God IS love. Anger is the separation from God. So here I am living in this hell with only a glimpse of what true love really is. What GOD is. What I’m meant to be – with God. Not as a me or I, but as in love morphed into nothingness and everythingness with God. Because we are made in his “image” in which our human language can’t properly communicate.
It’s when you feel safe you’re able to be yourself, is it not? When you were a child before bad things happened, you could “act out” because you felt safe around mommy and daddy because you knew they loved you. Until they punished you. Then you couldn’t fell safe. The safety you felt within them was gone – and they safety you had was taken away by the safety itself. How can you trust safety as an adult if it was taken away by the very means of being safe?
As we grow we either act out because we feel unsafe so we want to rekindle that safety in someone else because we can’t find it in ourselves or anyone on the outside or we quit acting out. We become implosive. Hating ourselves but not letting anyone see it. As teenagers we were well behaved. As adolescents we go to college and be good little boys and girls for the safety we wish to find. We find a person to love and become attached until that person acts out against us and we no longer feel safe around them to be ourselves – to “act out”
So we move on to something, someone else. Or if you went the earlier way, drugs, alcohol finding the next high to forget, or to feel better to not care about safety because you don’t believe safety has ever existed.
But what if you’re caught in between? Where you don’t know whether to keep trying to find safety and continue to be disappointed and finding ways to “forget” or to “feel alive”? And by doing so breaks the safety for another so you harm that safe relationship?
As I feel more safe with my bf I’m finding I’m acting out more. I’m on a path to destruction, not because he makes me feel that way but because I’ve never acted out. I was the child every parent wanted. Even as a baby I slept all through the night at least 6-7 hours about two weeks after the hospital. My mom said I was the best behaved child and everyone wanted me. How do you think that made me feel? To be an object of envy? How do you think that made me feel to kids my age who’s parents would say wow I wish my child would be more like you – why can’t ou be more like tara? Uh hello we are both right here.
Friendships were hard enough for me because I was different as a kid but you don’t have to make them worse lady.
So now my bf makes me feel safe – I frequently hear why are you acting like a child? Or quit being a kid. This breaks me because I just want to play – I want to be able to “act out” I have to make up for lost growth in life. My impulsivity isn’t a normal impulse wherein shops, eats (although I do that more often than I should), do drugs or drink, it’s more of spontaneity in packing and leaving/moving or I get weirdly impulsive like a cat would. Biting scratching, knocking things over messing things up just because I get overly hyper and can’t contain my energy. Then just as soon as it came on it leaves. Boom just like that a 10-15 second (if that) bust of crazy then I’m okay. The biting though on my boyfriend will play back – and just like a cat I’ll fight harder until there’s a point where I don’t know limits and I’ll start hiting and I’m afraid of myself at this point. I’m not doing it to be mean or malicious I just can’t contain this energy and it explodes like a ballon; once you pop it you can’t recontain all the air that was once in the balloon… or like a cat – Start scratching their belly and they bite and kick their back feet against your arm. Then as soon as they attack they stop and run. That’s my “impulsivity”
Maybe, I’m tired from hiding from myself. Maybe I’m tired of holding onto something that is initially unattainable at this moment in my life.
My disillusional sense of reality has final surfaced, allowing me to see that I’m not seeing correctly. The awareness of my disillusional mind has made me realize that the reason it’s so hard to fit in with people is my way of thinking. My severe paranoia of life and how I believe life is, and how it actually is. But honestly, how do we really know how life really is, and how it’s supposed to be. I don’t know what you’re thinking nor can I ever. Your perception on life is different from mine, especially since my “perception” is perceiving alternate to reality entirely. Does that make me crazy? I don’t think so. Maybe instead of being insanely smart, I’m smartly insane.
Instead of being a genius I’m a crazy smart girl. I’m not by any means a genius or insanely smart. But because of the mixing of my logical and creative thoughts, I am smartly insane.
Because I’ll rationalize something to create a good idea that’s then bombarded with creative illogical thoughts that I believe because they began logical.
This square piece fits into the square portion, but wait the square piece can still fit into the circle piece… yes if the circle is big enough… or if the square small enough… half empty, half full…perspective. but reality says nope, you can’t fit it because it’s rationed the same. The circumference of the circle equals the diameter of the square therefor you loose. But magically or theoretically speaking it could… so there! I’m still right – it just doesn’t work for me now at this moment.
That ladies and gentlemen is my brain at work. That is my disillusioned thought process. Everything hypothetical and theoretically speaking – anything is possible I’m told, well I can’t fly now can i?