Friday, March 2, 2007

I Can Relate. Really. Plus, a Dream.

What is quickly becoming my favorite blog has changed URLs, so I'll post it here so that you can go read the blog, too. The new URL is I'd be interested to hear other people's comments about this blog. I mentioned before that some parts of it are painful to read. I don't think it would be painful for anyone else, because in order for it to be painful, one would have to relate to some of the words said, and I have to admit here, that the reason some parts are difficult is because I have a tendency to see signs and symbols in the writing. I've done it before elsewhere, but not too often, so please don't worry about my emotional health. It just happens from time-to-time that it seems as if certain writings were messages directed towards me. It's not only the words that affect me, it's also this man's photography. He posts some here and there on his blog, but one should also really look at his Flickr account to see it all. My favorite of all his photos would be this one: It takes me away, back into dreamland, the place I escape to every night. Although, I should say I'm not really escaping anymore, because life is so beautiful. It's just that in dreamland, my imagination gets to play, and quickly and easily turns me into an author, where I am the creator. I create environments, people, scenes, actions, objects, emotions and really quite a lot more than I am able to create while awake. I should just say that I like dreamland and awake-land equally. Awake-land lets me interact with the real world. In awake-land, I do, however, get to create myself. I would like to quote a line I read on the aforementioned blog: "This process of self-invention and misinterpretation is also deeply distressing." I quote this because I deeply relate to it. While we are always inventing ourselves, based upon the environment and who or what we are dealing with, it seems I especially am constantly misinterpreting things. It has to do with my "ability" to see signs and symbols and to read meaning in writing and to hear meaning in songs. I would almost be tempted to say they are "messages". But if I said that, you'd think me crazy. Maybe I shouldn't call it an ability. Maybe it's really a disability. I don't know for sure yet. I want to say it is part of my personal evolution, part of the change that I am going through, in which I am reaching a higher state of consciousness.

He has his comments turned off, and the only way to communicate with him is by sending emails. It's probably better that way, because I'd have a comment for every post on his blog. And his photographs... I won't go into detail on what they make me feel. It would make this post too long and your attentions would start to beg to go elsewhere. Let's just say that I wish I had every single one of his photos all for myself. My very own AwayAlone photo album.

While I'm here, I might as well go and ask if anyone knows what "hauntology" means. I'll Google it in the meanwhile, but I noticed he tags some of his posts with this word.

Now on to the dream I had this morning or last night:

I am lying naked on the top of a bunk bed. There is a baby sucking at my breast. A woman comes and grabs the baby, apologizing to me that her child managed to get away from her and bother me with its hunger.

Notes: When I was a kid, I had the top bunk while my younger sister had the one below. As far as the baby is concerned, I have been going through episodes where I feel like I want a child. I had managed to finally make the decision to have a child, only to eventually talk myself out of it, all because of various fears. I'll never have a child.


Richard Lawrence Cohen said...

This dream seems very primal, very much about the most basic human issues of wanting love and wanting to love oneself and feeling overwhelmed by others. I also think that the idea that every person in a dream represents part of the dreamer is worth exploring here.

Puzzled Woeman said...

Very perceptive, Richard. I've "suffered" before from an intense sensation of needing love. It never was that I was unloved, I just needed more and more. Maybe I had/have an addiction to love?