[Don't] Follow Your Dream

In English, no, no subtitles. People talk in English. I do too there.

I saw kids uprooted and sold mushrooms from a forest. In a small village nearby green pasture. They are Caucasian kids with golden hair. They said, "no they're not poisonous, ma'am", persuading me to purchase some bunches of the fresh things [this is the effect of watching Tom Sawyer].

Then I was there in a feast at a house. Of my own. I went out with a guy, older than me, a senior position, like an elder of a family. He was Hugh Grant [this is the effect of watching Final Cuts the Hungarian movie, when Hugh Grant is there]. Gosh. We chatted in a car, we laid down. And he started to g**** me. Caress my b***** and touched my n****** [this is also the effect of watching Final Cuts, the steamy scene in the movie]. I hesitated and said, "but this isn't allowed, is it?" And he said it was OK, nothing's wrong with this. We talked in English [this is definitely because I watched too many movies in the European on Screen].

Then I was having coffee with J. He and his innocent smile I had been dreamed about for quite some time. We sat in a round table with squared tablecloth. Green or red I can't recall well. He held my hand and smiled. It was so warm I can feel it now. His smile reminds me of an innocent child [this is the effect of exchanging email with him].

This is the proof that my dream always follow this pattern: an unclear mosaic of things I experience, or hear, or see, or think or watch or talk or write or meet, during the day.

I would have to make a journal of my dreams. Did write some already here in the blog but perhaps it must be more regular. Then it will prove my thesis that my dreams are merely the repetition of events. Meaningless. And an attempt to interpret my dreams, -is a waste of time and energy. I knew this already, though.

The quote that says 'follow your dream', I buy it not. Because in my life, I don't follow my dream. I follow my imagination. I try to make my imagination real. Not dream. Because my dreams are mostly about the past. But my imaginations are about the future. 

•5 May 2014

On Memories and Imaginations

There are only two enemies we keep on struggling and have battle with, probably since we are aware of our consciousness in this world and of the people and the environment surrounding us.

They are the memories of the past, and the imaginations of the future. Both of them are equally dangerous. Both of them can be pain in the ass, make you nervous.

When you dig up the old memories, remember and sense the old feelings, the old pictures, the old long forgotten smells and the old sounds and voices..they all start to overtake you, yourself, overwhelming. You hate yourself for your inability to feel and claim them back. Claim back the people from the past to come to here and now. To talk to you, to spend time with you. 

Inability to bring back the smell of grass and wild bushes in the morning, with the morning dew on them. Inability to bring back the softness of the wild purple trumpet flower petals. Inability to bring back the scent of the persons you loved. Inability to bring back the voice of the sparrows in the prairie when there were no built environment. Inability to bring back the silence, the quietness of the neighborhood without the annoying motor exhaust sound. Inability to bring back the butterflies on your stomach when you fall in love.  

The helplessness feeling that you have, that reminds you that you cannot do anything to change the present and send the past to the destination: now, is vain. The emptiness inside, to know that even if you scream, crawl, roll over, tantrum, yell, mock, angry, rage, spit it out, nothing will change. And moreover: who will and should be the RIGHT subject of your anger?

Is it God? Time? Weather? Circumstances? Fate? Destiny? Some Divine Beings?

In the end, just like a child who is in a mess after tantrum, you look around and realize that it is a kind of hell that you are dealing with. Knowing what you want, but cannot make anything about it. Not after the tantrum. Not after the harsh rebellion. No efforts will be useful. No matter how hard you try. 

And imagination. It is something that exists only in your mind, in your brain. It might be triggered by memories or experiences or it might be simply there because you think of it at the first time. Triggered or not triggered by empirical reasons.

And the dangerous about imagination is that it may go wild. Untamed. 

It is when you can make them real. When you imagine of a future condition you don;t know how to make it real. Feeling the helplessness of wanting it come to pass. And it didn't. You are trapped with the now. The future is still out of reach, despite the beauty of the imagination. When you project the picture or motion picture in your head, in your mind. Just to find out that they stay there.

Again, you will feel like that tantrum child again. Helplessness. 

In the end, "Everything under the Sun is meaningless". Just like the Bible says. Call me an existentialist, I may be one. 

*I Googled the two words, and surprisingly, found a quote about both by Cioran (just heard of him). The pic's there on the top right. 

Cinemas marathon and lonely planet

Two days in a row, Europe On Screen, 8 movies in total, 4 in a row each day during the first weekend of May. Plus one on Monday. My record so far is 5 movies in a week when Adi and Ois and Ile had a visit in Jakarta last January, so I guess I just broke it. I was interrupted by the Manila assignment, so I lost Delicacy and The Hunt and some others, but I resumed on Sunday, with two more movies. A total of eleven movies in two weeks. Not so bad.

Let's see what I've watched these last weeks:

1. Tom Sawyer - Goethe Haus [Germany]
2. Clara - Italian Inst [Switzerland]
3. Gilded Cage - Erasmus Huis [French]
4. Love is all you need - Erasmus Huis [Danish]
5. Alfie little werewolf - Goethe Haus [Dutch]
6. Klitcshko - Goethe Haus [Ukraina]
7. The final cut - Goethe Haus [Hungary]
8. Philomena - Goethe Haus [British]

9. I want you - Erasmus Huis [Spanish]

10. The eternal return of Antonis Paraskevas - Italian Inst [Greek]

11. My best enemy - Goethe Haus [Austria]

I must say, Philomena is the best, followed by Gilded Cage and My Best Enemy. Klitcshko is surprisingly not boring, and Alfie is great too, with strong characters. Clara? Nice one, but bad experience in Italia Inst, because the screen and sound system is really inconvenient.

Klitcshko, is rather emotional to me. The Chernobyl, the downfall of the Soviet Union: glasnost and perestroika, these were on the world news during my childhood. These K brothers are people of my age, we share same world historical period. Newspaper during my time, my readings, I shared similar news with the ones they read those years. 

I remember the same feeling watching the historical pictures on this movie with the feeling when I visited Berlin. About the fall of the Berlin Wall. The world had been changed so fast within a blink of an eye, if hyperbolic is allowed. And I, the world's citizen, witnessed the period, live in that period.

Besides, it is a movie about the life of two great boxers. I remember my father so much. He was crazy about boxing. When there's boxing on the television, no one would dare to ask him to be away, not even an inch from the television. How he commented on a boxer's jab, or stupid strategy, or stamina. How he screamed or yelled or rolled and or goggled his eyes when his favorite boxer did a mistake or missed a target. "That's it! Hit him! Beat him! Use your right jab, stupid! Knock him out! Aargh!!!", were so normal those days when there was a boxing match on the television.

Back to the story line, the brothers mention in that documentary that their mother is their sun, and they are the satellites. It struck me a chord. I suddenly had this thought, that I am a lonely planet, figuratively, since my sun is not there anymore. All in a sudden. And I realized, not just a lonely planet, I am an orphan, no father and no mother. 

I've been thinking about them a lot these days. Dad's birthday was 23rd of March and Mom's birthday was 22nd of April, so their birthdays were only a month apart. And to face the reality that we remember their birthdays, two months in a row without the presence of any of them, hurts.

I didn't write anything about it. Nor did I put sentimental status on my Facebook, Twitter or the likes. Not during their birthdays, not during Mother's Day. 

No. It's my feeling, my personal loss, my wound. I suppose no one likes to expose their wound in front of others. Err, well some exhibitionist extrovert might like to do so to attract attention [more than enough evidence of this in the Facebook]. But I am an introverted person and I would never want people pitying me or say sorry or so. Or they become melancholic about my story. I rarely feel the needs. 

If I am a lonely planet, then there I am. I have no need to announce it to the world. What would I expect from making it a public statement and public consumption? Useless for them, useless for me.  So..I wouldn't want to waste my already deficit time stock on that. Writing them is better, at least I spit it out from my mind. And my brain cells can work on something else more useful. For me, for others.

(4 + 11 May 2014 Post )