As I sit here crying because I’ve just rewatched my favorite film “Cloud Atlas”, I am reminded of change and dreams.
For a long while now, maybe a year, I’ve been in a slump. I’ve been thinking over and over about how my life is a “drop of water in an endless sea”. Pondering over how tiny I am, how mortality is so finite how could any of us bare the idea of immortality? How I will die inevitably and everything in our waking world is a distraction away from this death, it’s a monolithic movement toward a fake idea of eternal life. It doesn’t come from the Christians, although they now propagate this idea, and it was before the Greeks, before the Babylonians (pre-Judaism), and it was before writing. Humans lie. We lie to ourselves about our fate.We try to block it out, pretend death isn’t lurking under every rock, waiting to trip us up and break us, we shout “DANGER” so quietly.
I’m trying to be honest to myself. Telling myself of my death, that whatever I do, I will die. I’ve been giving up hope, I’ve let all my dreams go. In my depression and in my turmoil I have said “It’s impossible, I’m 1 and 8 billion+ and I am nothing.” I am nothing because I choose to be, but not because I am.
In Cloud Atlas Sonmi said “Our lives are not our own. From womb to tomb, we are bound to others. Past and present. And by each crime and every kindness, we birth our future.”(David Mitchell, author). When she said this, she is staring at a room full of fighting. Everything knows death is inevitable but they are fighting for a better life. Dying for a better life for the other.
My eternal best friend Savannah said to me: “You aren’t great because you are great, but because I say you are great so you have to be, because I want you to be.” Now this sounds very backwards, but I knew exactly what she meant. She meant that even though I don’t think I’m great, or have purpose, or meaning, I am great because she knows so. Then she said “You may think you don’t have a purpose, but that doesn’t mean you can’t give yourself one. Make one up!!”
A few hours later a woman came out of an Irish bar on to the sidewalk where Savannah and I were standing, I gave her a light and she said to me “I want to be your mothah!” and then “Go do something amazing, change the world.”
More than all the religious and socio-political philosophical truths, I know that humans are only human with other humans. And we can only change when we step into the view of the other. The moment we see the point of view of someone unlike ourselves who is apart from us can we begin to understand we aren’t so different. The only way we can learn or affect the world is by changing ourselves.
I heard once that you don’t have to change the whole world to be marvelous, you only have to change one tiny world of someone else’s to make an impact. I hope to change a few, even if those worlds are just my immediate friends and family, I can be ok with that.
I won’t give up though, I’m revisiting my dreams of being a writer, a musician, an archaeology, a teacher, a lifelong learner. I am finding another path and I don’t walk alone, but I am connected with those I find, everyone’s whose path touches mine.
Those who are great most of the time never knew they were. They died, maybe for a cause to fight for the other and are remembered as great because they changed one tiny world, that created a wave to affect many. They weren’t great because they thought they were great, they are great we because we think they are. We think. Present active Indicative plural. We are plurality and individuality and we are being.
No one usually believes me, but I’ve never had a good dream. I’ve always had nightmares. No matter where or when in my emotional or social life, I have always experienced strife, maybe this is the cause of my perpetual fears in my subconscious. I’ve gotten so used to having these strange nightmares, that I tend to just accept them into my consciousness after waking. Some of my dreams have even taken me to places where I learn more about who I am on the inside when my dream self is faced with conflicts a person in startrek would be faced with. Sometimes I am a man in my dreams. This mornings dream I was a man, and in a very strange place.
The World wasn’t as it should be. I was an officer in a clan, this clan had a two queens that were seemly getting more pregnant every passing minute in my dream. We seemed to be running from a large parasitic enemy that took its live victims and implanted a device to control them. (I didn’t know this till the end of my dream.) I can’t recall what exactly our clan was fighting in the beginning of the dream, but it seemed we were fighting in a department store. This department store was one of the bottom levels of a million levels of dimensions. We retreated from this dimension to an upper one, running up what appeared to be basement stairs. In this new world we just emerged in, every thing was constructed as a giant store-room, though every shelf and wall was a mass of packed trash and decomposing apple cores and other foods. The floor was cement. There was an overhang secluded from most of this world and we took shelter there. Another inhabitants found us and were hostile, but saw that we were just refugees of war, so they did not try to force out of their world. A relationship started to bloom between their male leader and our female one, the older sister of the two queens. This took shape ver quickly, and in a blur we seemed to have lived there for some time. In the clearest parts of my dream the two leaders came together for a visit, guards and officers preoccupied with them when the enemy we had hidden from attacked the dimensions natives first. They were almost wiped out before we noticed. I turned a corner hearing a laser fire with a quick shot shortly after. It was an infected native, I could tell by the ripped eye sockets now filled with blue electricity. This man shot a crawling body as I turned the corner at my feet. He focused on my and tried to fire direct t my head but I dodged the yellow and gold stream of life from his gun. He tried firing his shotgun attachment but missed again and grazed the wall next to me. Frustrated, he lounged at me, and I ducked below the muzzle of his weapon and flipped it so it was directed at him. I shot him holding down the trigger so the beam of yellow and gold would liquidate his flesh. He disappeared.
I flew down the coradoores and reached the fort where my clan was scattered and dead. At this point I wasn’t concerned about my fellow-men, or even my queen, or even keeping peace between the natives, it was fight and flight or death. The programmed soldiers were running down a ramp, their blue sockets pointing at me, I fired at them and disintegrated 10, and then I ran out of room to run. I was corned and more enemies were pouring into the dimensions from all the entrances. My gun was out of laser to fire, and I didn’t know how to operate the shotgun attachment to keep myself protected, and every enemy stopped firing. I was the last.
“You are the last of this world to fall to us. And you will be the first to rise with us.” they said, holding a triangular plastic implant, wires and cords springing from it. It was poised to be shoved down my throat.
Waking up after this was very strange. I wanted to see what I would become, deffenceless as I was. I’m not sure what this means, but I do know since I have not watched an alien movie or played an alien game for so long it has not been influenced by this.
Maybe some day I’ll have a dream about something happy, and maybe next time I wont die.