Discussing Dreams in Dreams

American Dream uploaded by dreamtiger

I just had a dream, some part of which was interrupted, because way too much sunlight entered my room (I think), and within the dream I had a problem seeing. I don’t know if this happens to anyone else, but I noticed that on sunny mornings (never night), closer to the waking time, and when my face is turned to window or is otherwise exposed, I have trouble seeing in a dream.

So I just dreamed that I was at a friend’s mansion, wandered off into the unknown premises on my own, then – presumably, – turned towards the window in my sleep and got blinded in the dream. I started seeing my dream film in split screens, kept bumping into walls and objects, walking in circles and generally behaved in an erratic and disoriented fashion.

Then I somehow got out of the strange room I got myself into (there were other odd qualities about it, but that’s beyond this post’s scope), and hurriedly walked down a luxurious set of stairs towards my friend. I told him about the experience I just had: “I just experienced something, and got lost in your house. You know how when you’re dreaming and way too much light gets in the room, blinding you, so you stop seeing right in a dream? You see split screens, become disoriented and you know it’s morning in the waking world?”

He said, “No”.

But of course, he’s my brain’s production, and my brain probably was not anticipating the scenario where I actively start discussing this particular dream and why I couldn’t see properly and that I knew that this dream film was a movie anyway, yet I obliged its rules.

Filed under: imaginings , dreams, obsessions, photos

Following Tetro

To add to my previous post, the review of Tetro – I was the youngest person in the audience, it seems. Why is it that I was the youngest person in the whole theatre? Do young people do not watch Francis Ford Coppola? Do young people have no interest in cinema? Do young people even care about themes expressed in the movie?

The whole time I was watching it, I was thinking about following my dreams, about not going with the flow, and about not settling for the average. I’ve been told by my parents and by good friends and all sorts of people that it’s all right to lower my expectations and just take whatever “best” is available at my disposal. But my disposal restrains me to one city, to downtown, to be precise. And “my disposal” is actually not a limited radius, but an ever changing circle of desires, goals and aspirations.

And not even that. I was thinking about how with time I’ve had reoccurring thoughts of “Perhaps, I should go with this, perhaps, this is all right”. On some days I’m almost ready to shut down my wanderlust and the desire to leap into the unknown. I never, never feel that this is it. Everywhere I’ve been and lived, I knew that it was all just a transitory period. No location is ever permanent, no set-up is ever to continue and to be made into a routine.

Only someone on the same path knows. The great earth is so vast, it makes people so utterly sad.
— Engo, in case 23 of the Hekigan-roku

Filed under: imaginings , development, memories, sad, self, sometimes

Spring Words and Prime Numbers

I’ve never looked forward to spring as much as I have this year. Using the left side of my brain, I can deduce that it has something to do with my age. Most of my older friends always rejoiced about spring when I couldn’t care less what season it was; now I feel their joy. It’s sort of like the feeling you get when you’re about to write all your exams and burst into summer vacation.

The book I read last week reminded me of the more subdued version of that feeling – the quiet joy, the fleeting happiness you feel when noticing the most beautiful details of our lives. The Housekeeper and the Professor by Yoko Ogawa is about memory and math. It’s about kindness and perseverance, family and understanding. What got my attention, of course, was the role mathematics played in telling this poignant story. Set in 1992, it is about a new housekeeper assigned to the brilliant professor whose short-term memory lasts only 80 minutes as a result of a serious car crash that happened in1975. His memory stops at that time, and he resorts to writing notes and attaching them to his suit. The housekeeper is a patient and kind woman who finds professor’s math trivia interesting. So does her son. I won’t jump into details of the novel, but I highly recommend this book for your spring reading list. It is the kind of story that makes one’s heart clench at the sight of tiny, unnoticable things of our daily lives; it makes you appreciate the present moment (try imagining only having 80 minutes of memory!); and it may even cause you to entertain the thought of eternal love.

Filed under: imaginings , changes, japanese, literature, books, love, math

On Nicknames and Alter Egos

Today at the office my nearest and dearest proclaimed that there are two of me – there’s the Karin, the focused busy bee, the hard worker who stubbornly focuses on work and shushes (is that even a word?) any distractions or jokes. Then apparently there is Karina who laughs maniacally, talks to herself out loud, answers all kinds of trivia questions such as, “Who wrote Death in Venice” and “What is the (pocket) watch chain called” and all that. Karina is also a bit ADD, because she’ll be telling you about 2009 style trends and at the same time forward interesting articles from the Harvard Business, and confessing her love for Helvetica and informing everyone about the Helvetica the film and the limited edition Helvetica Moleskines (I ordered the red one). The happy, larger than life Karina is what I am on any given happy day, it’s just that deadlines come between me and the rest of the world, and I must switch gears.

Speaking of nicknames. Eric asked about what Hemingway’s nickname was. I’ll tell you all: Hemingway had many nicknames throughout his lifetime. To his sister Sunny, he was “Oinbones.” While in high school, he gave himself the nickname of “Hemingstein.” Because of his love of boxing and the great outdoors, he became known as “Champ.” His first wife Hadley and son John (by Hadley) affectionately referred to him as either “Ernestoic,” “Tatie,” “Tiny,” or “Wax Puppy.” Even the child shared in the fun, acquiring his own nickname of “Bumby.” Hemingway was also known in some circles as “Wemedge.” More obvious nicknames included “Ernie,” “Hem,” and “Hemmy.” But the most enduring and most recognized nickname for Hemingway would be “Papa”. Source.

Filed under: imaginings , hemingway, joy, personalities, self

an idea from German Rostock

“that’s from my anorexic period”, said the ghost of capitalism, pointing at the ghost of communism.

Filed under: imaginings, moving up , self, fun, travels, ideas

Over The Edge Musings

Over the edge

Originally uploaded by ☼ AmiBe ☼

Besides commenting on how zesty this photo is (composition! sharpness!), I have two more things that popped into my mind today.

First of all, I spent a lot of time looking at flickr shots of Africa, and I’ve been getting more and more inspired to go. Top destinations include the Siwa Oasis and Virunga volganic region (which probably means I need to get to Congo, Rwanda or Uganda), where I would check out the amazing mountain gorillas before the rebels eat them all or humans find some other way to destroy them or their habitat.

Victoria Falls is an amazing destination, too. There is a Devil’s Pool right at the end of the Zambezi river. If you’re lucky and the pool isn’t flooded, you get to swim in it like these folks in the picture. I’d do that as well.

I have this habit of imagining stories when looking at photographs, or imagining myself in situations. Occasionally, the imagined narratives go awry, like in the case of me in the Victoria Falls setting.
Surely someone must have fallen off the edge at some point in history. Many people. I wonder what goes on in their heads during the flight? If I fell off, I’d be pretty upset for a split second, but then I’d [like to think that I would] laugh at such a hysterical way to die, and that someone else from my travel crew now has to carry my shit back to the hotel.

Or I may not have enough time to think of anything

Filed under: imaginings , flickr, photos, imaginings, africa, causes, silly, river, nature, travels