HI, Summerfun:
This morning instead of doing what I needed to do, I watched a video. My roommate Jake turned on "The Others" while I was at my desk working. Usually when he does this I can tune it out and not give a shit, because usually it's a dumb movie I don't want to see anyway, so I don't care if it gets ruined. But this was one that I had been wanting to see. So I had to watch it.
I liked it. It was a good, creepy kind of scary. Just like "What Lies Beneath." I'm glad we were watching in the middle of the day.
The movie got me to thinking about layers of reality. It got me thinking about stuff I used to think about as a child. I used to wonder: What if I'm asleep? What if all this is a dream, and I am asleep? I remember distinctly in 1979, I got back from a year living at Stanford, and I decided I was quite possible asleep. Somewhere along the line in that year I had possibly fallen asleep, and didn't know how to wake up again. The thing is, if that's what happened, then everything in my life, or almost everything, is a dream. It's not real. It's possible that the glimmer I feel in moments, the glimmers of grandeur and other lives, other lives I've lived or am going to live or am even living right now, are real. Maybe those lives really are as real as they seem. Because I feel as if I have volumes of experiences that I've never actually had in this life. I feel as if I understand about living in a village. I understand about living in a war, too. I understand about becoming a teenager--in a much different way than I myself actually did. I never had the normal teenager experience. But I can imagine it. Also, I understand about music, about being consumed by your instrument, even though it's never happened to me. There's lots of stuff.
Does everyone feel like this?
Is this the DNA memory of my ancestors?
Then I started thinking, maybe I'm dead, and maybe everyone around me is dead, or somewhere on the live-dead continuum: Maybe the concept of being "alive" is only a quirk of our perspectives, and maybe all of creation is busting with all kinds of energy. Maybe some people are more alive in some ways than others, and maybe some aren't alive at all; and maybe some aren't all here, but are somewhere else. And maybe we just can't sense the nature of all this energy, or sense it at all. I mean, I can hear the high-pitched squeal a TV makes. It drives me mad. Jake, my roommate, can't hear it for the life of him. That doesn't mean it's not there.
right then
stuff to do
Plans to make, on this plane, in this life. It may be limited and I may be blind, but it's mine. Like first of all, I have to eat some food, man, like crazy, even if everything is crazy energy.
love
me
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