Nonsensical and sometimes not-so-nonsensical rants about what may or may not be going through my head. Try to liberalize your canvas of interpretation when reading these posts - you will go far...

Saturday, October 1, 2011


Last night I dreamt that I had died.
But I could see, or rather feel,
what was going on around me.
I felt I had no strength or will,
I was only capable of witnessing
my own death, my own corpse.
Above all, I could feel in my dream
something long forgotten, something
that had not happened to me for a long time - 
the feeling that it was not a dream but real.
It is such a powerful sensation
that a wave of sadness fills your soul,
of pity for yourself, and a strange,
as if it were an aesthetic way of seeing your own life.
When you feel compassion for yourself in that way,
it is as if your pain were someone else's.
and you are looking at it from outside,
weighing it up, and you are beyond
the bounds of what used to be your life.
It was as if my past life was a child's life,
without experience, unprotected.
Time ceases to exist, and fear.
An awareness of immortality.

Inspiration: Andrei Tarkovsky

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