Just Some Thoughts

"Tell me a good dream you’ve had."

I wish I could.  I wish I could remember any.  It seems, that as long as I can remember my dreams have only existed as one of two things, bizarre circus shows of carnage, fear, and horror…or something mundane and prophetic.  Even the ones that are less destructive, less grizzly, seem permeated with an aura of sadness.  I think if one believed in dream analysis, if one was to accept Freud, my state would be considered a very poor one.  Maybe it is. 

I’ve been thinking about a lot of memories lately.  I’m dredging up basically all the silt and detritus laying dormant and stagnant at the bottom of the fetid depths of my soul.  And why?  I’m hoping at last to assemble all the things again, to wipe off the layers of grime to reveal the parts of my heart, the little sharp glass pieces that have broken off and are resting at the bottom.  When done, my heart will not be as it once was, but it will at least resemble a heart again.  It is a hope and a responsibility that I am constantly laying on other people’s shoulders.  I believe I’m taking that responsibility onto my own from them whether they ask or not.  I suppose you’re not supposed to ask, but I don’t think true love can exist if you don’t try to give the other person everything you have.

I have loved very many.  I know a lot of people balk at this when I tell them that I can’t even begin to estimate how many my fancy has set upon fervently.  But that ardor is not Love.  It is love.  It is the germinal seeds.  The dirt it was placed in was always fallow, not quite ready for a crop to grow.  Once, rarely, the land was ready and something would grow.  But the care it took was two sided, it is not just the gardener who must cultivate the plant but in this case the plant that must choose to be cultivated as well.  I’ve had very very very few bumper crops by this silly little metaphor.

It is easy for me to love.  It is hard for me to say it.  Not once with someone, then it comes freely.  It is hard for me to step forward and take the gamble.  If I do, then it must be important, it always has been in the past.  I’m sure it always will be.  It is in part due to the fear of falling, of losing the possibility of love, especially when someone like me with my active imagination and intensity starts building up the what could be.  It isn’t healthy, but that is my nature.  I am constantly seeing potential.  I know what the reality of the situation always is but I always expect to be dazzled.  I have lost a bit of that.  I have become a bit resigned to failure.  I don’t quite expect it, and I still don’t attribute it to the person…I just instead imagine that some unforseen or forseen complication will arise and sever once more the threads of hope and perfection.

Oh how depressing.  Bugger that.  I’m not depressed about my future and the potential of what I truly believe my dreams to be.  I read an entry from a long time ago where I said I lived for the stage.  I don’t anymore.  The stage is a beautiful place and it is part of my life, but without it, I’ll still live.  It is no longer my great dream.  My great dream is love.  It always has been.  When I was younger I tried to deny it, tried to be hard like a silly person tries to be hard so that they can deny a part of themselves that only brings pain.  But it isn’t the part in ourselves that hurts us as much as the fact that that part relies on others to fulfill it.  And others are living their lives for themselves.  It is very hard for anyone to live outside themselves enough to heal all the people who want what you can offer them.

I apologize for the rambling.  I felt the urge to write something down coming from my mind/soul, but I really had no focus.  It’s a bit scattered. 

I guess in the end, what I want to say is: I’ve never been happier to be sad.  I am happy to bring up these memories again, to hurt, to have the nightmares, to feel.  And I hope that what I really feel and try to belay at least in part to curb and stifle the intensity of my feelings just enough to seem normal and not naive and foolish, to seem less like some enamored paramour and more like, as you said "a hero in a romantic drama," remains true.  I hope that we can find a way to sustain.  I believe we can.  I believe we both have the power to do so. 

I am the magic.  You are the dusk.