Karma

Sometimes when one thinks a lot about something for a while, and then doesn’t for a little while after that, it springs back with a vengeance in one’s dreams. And sometimes, as far fetched as a dream might seem, all of the elements in it can be strikingly real, so much that you are left with a slightly new angle on the people that were in it. I wrote once (not here, but it still exists) about the phenomenon of waving in and out of a dream - leaving it, but crawling right back into it. A few times I was awoken by my alarm (I think I hit snooze somewhere around six times). Each time I would awake slightly with either a horrible, sinking feeling, or a more reassured feeling, or a grand disappointment at having to leave whatever was going on, depending on what was happening. It surprised me how much ground I covered in terms of the things that I had been thinking about, even though they weren’t very important things. I think we always have access to our dream material (even if it is difficult to tap outside of its natural state) because it’s intricuately tied in indirect, metaphorical ways to our realities via the thing that processes them both - our mind. Perhaps dreaming is a way to get to processing the possibilities and aspects of things that we, with the restrictions and inhibitions of reality and our tendency to critically evaluate our every thought, would have discarded. The real challenge comes in thinking about their implications. When we recall a dream, we put it through the same set of logical and comparative tests that we do "waking" thoughts. And so, they end up appearing ridiculous, and the bits that could only have happened "because it was a dream" are discarded. This tends to boil out a lot of the good stuff. You know, the stuff that makes perfect sense in the dream, but when we wake up, we go "what in the hell…" and can’t figure it out. My question to that is, how are we ever supposed to gain anything from our dreams if we can’t be open enough to interpret them when awake? The reason I put "waking" in quotes earlier is that I’m pretty fond of the theory that there is no difference between "waking" and "dreaming" life. One might argue that this is ridiculous, because dreams are less "realistic". But actually, if you think about it, "reality" would seem just as preposterous to consider during a dream as a dream does in reality. It is true that we often do not remember our dreams when we awake, aside from what we call the especially vivid ones (I like to think they’re just more important). Sometimes we have harsh insertions of "reality" in our dreams, too - and how often do you find yourself remembering what you ate for dinner before you went to sleep, while you’re dreaming? There is, of course, the question of time, but on the same principle: waking time is either incredibly short or long compared to dream time, just as much as the other way around. Compare any aspect of reality to a dream while you’re in it, and you will find the differences are exactly the same. This gets me thinking… if you apply all those interpretations of symbology to dreams to try and figure out your waking life, what happens when you apply that symbology to daily life to find what it means for your dreams…

The clam chowder comes in short styrofoam soup cups, with flat plastic lids. And the moment you place the lid over the hot soup, it of course steams up. But then, as you walk down the hallway, some of the soup hops up and splashes against the lid, leaving strange formations against the steam that looks almost like a little continent on a map. It’s different every time…

Never stop doing something that truly makes you happy. Even if the spread of the happiness seems intangible, someday it will be stumbled upon and appreciated for what it is, and that’s the whole point.

Life can only be understood
in reverse,
but must be lived forwards.
—Megadeth - “Losing My Senses”

Some people have the power to make other people happy. I was walking to the lunch room today, and there was a man about a foot taller than me in a business suit. He had a rather casual walk, but he movEd fast. I hardly noticed him, walking along with my hands in my pockets, until he looked down as he passed - and he seemed to be leaning to look around me as though trying to catch my eye! It was almost like someone trying to cheer up a sad child. But when he smiled, it was one of the largest, warmest smiles I’ve ever seen given as a passing glance in a hallway. It was like he wanted to make sure I went along happier than I had been before I passed him. It glowed happiness, and I couldn’t stop smiling all the way through the lunchroom, because of how happy it left me. He radiated a friendly aura that was simply impossible to ignore. It makes one think, to see that a simple thing like a passing smile can make that big of an impact. Maybe someone who was really feeling down now feels less invisible because of that guy. I wonder if he knows all that it does…

Maybe it’s where the boiling water first hits, but somehow, there are little translucent spots on the bottom of my paper cup full of tea, dyed the colour of the tea itself - a magenta-purple colour. It’s quite beautiful. I like things that are transparent. The inner workings are always visible to the curious eye, though sometimes one must peel back more layers for a clearer view. It gives an interconnected feeling - a clean, simple clarity which reminds one that everything tangible is essentialy ephemeral. Translucent things in nature always feel special somehow, or magical - like little stained glass windows in the earth’s temple, showing with the utmost reverence just how delicate such beauty can be.