Filed under: Daily Specials | Tags: dreams, journal, random, thoughts, writing
This morning’s drink: chamomile tea.
I don’t recall ever asking for journals, but I do know that I’ve always received them. Christmas, birthdays, Valentine’s Day — family and friends alike have gifted me with journals since I can remember. And I’ve loved it — I’ve always loved it. I have stacks of ravaged journals and almost equal numbers that are dying to be filled.
One journal in particular came to me a few years ago with a matching photo album. Printed all over them in cursive and gold script are the words “Dream Journal.”
I don’t use this journal as my dream journal — or maybe I do. My confusion comes from the way people use the word ‘dreams’ to describe both the crazy things that go through their head at night, and the hopeful ambitions they cling to throughout the day.
Who ever made that connection? I’ve never had a night dream that encapsulated a fantastic job or a perfect mate. In fact, when I’m not dreaming about totally benign things like rearranging furniture or working, I’m fleeing from murderers in impossible alleyways or finding illogical solutions to riddles that don’t make sense.
Even when I’ve taken my dreams and tried to “read” them for their symbolism, they “tell” me things that a drunk person could probably elucidate with more elegance.
For this reason, I can’t think of the things I actually want to do in life as ‘dreams.’ Dreams are uncomfortable and confusing. Ambitions are optimistic and encouraging.
Which is why I get a slight feeling of uneasiness when I read Anais Nin’s quote, also scrawled on my journal’s hardcover:
“Dreams are necessary to life.”
Either I’m missing something in life, or I’m missing something in my dreams.
Filed under: Daily Specials | Tags: conscience, conscious, dreams, faith, free-will, lies, life, random, subconscious, thoughts
Tonight’s Drink: Rodney Strong Merlot.
When I was in Junior College I took what has probably been one of the more influential classes of my college career; a humanities course called “The Bible as Literature.” As you may have guessed, the course was centered on a complete read-through of the bible – in this case, the Oxford Annotated version, with the Apocrypha. My professor, whose name escapes me, was flamboyant and heady, but very sharp. When he got really excited, he would V his arms out to his sides and point his middle fingers into the air in dual-bird motion to each corner of the room. Then, when it was time to answer questions, he’d call on you using the same middle fingers. It was very disarming, to say the least.
I bring up this particular class because it was my first introduction to the concept of free will. Obviously, in the eyes of the church, I’d been exercising free will my entire life, compliments of God. But in this class, the professor made a point to talk about how God’s bestowal of free will upon man had made him different from animals, and therefore subject to greater scrutiny in their choices between right and wrong.
“Do angels have free will?” I asked.
“The bible doesn’t talk much about angels,” he said. “But based on the information, I would say no.”
I was dissatisfied with the answer at the time.
The concept of free will has its basis in the conscious mind. Your conscious self makes decisions, interacts with others, drives your car, buys your clothes, and eats your food. Your conscience is the name for the knowledge you use to make these decisions. The ideas and activities that fall under ”right” and “wrong” are organized in your conscience.
But your subconscious is always there in the background, lurking. With stronger opinions and greater convictions, your subconscious just lets you think that it’s up to you. Like Glenn Close in Fatal Attraction, it’s out there.. just waiting to boil your bunny and show you who’s boss. Then you have a wierd dream, or you check out your married coworker, and you think, “Am I a bad person? I’m having these thoughts, and they’re coming from my mind, so it must mean I’m bad.”
But you can only be bad in your conscious state- that’s the only state you have control over. But how free is your conscious state, really? Your subconscious is around whether you’re asleep or awake, so how would you know you weren’t being controlled by your mind?
I was awakened on Wednesday at 2 a.m. by a dream in which I was driving on a rainy highway along the Mendocino coastline. In front of me was a Ford Bronco or a Chevy Suburban, multi-colored, and we were both driving at a decent clip as Northern Californians do. As we approached a bridge over a creekbed swollen with rain, a huge pileup materialized in the slow lane. What looked to be a new Dodge Charger or an old Cadillac DeVille swerved to miss the wreck. The quick move sent the Bronco/Suburban veering, which transitioned quickly into a hydroplane-induced 180. Suddenly, the backwards-facing SUV slammed up against the bridge railing and flipped over the edge, sending it crashing, upside-down, into the rocky ravine 20 feet below. I was three cars behind, watching the whole thing in shock. I knew that person had to have died.
The fact that this was only a dream should have been a relief to me. But I was caught off-gaurd by the fact that my own mind could surprise me with such a complicated chain of events. How did I not see that coming? Why was I so surprised that it did? And, more importantly, why was I feeling so much anxiety over the whole thing?
I would argue that consciousness does not equal free will – it only offers the opportunity for critical thinking. This is the reason why psychology can only interpret human reaction based on the psyche. The psyche is the body, the conscious mind is just the clothes it is wearing. And just like the way my walk swings a jersey skirt around my knees, so, too, does the walk of the psyche directly influence the movement of the conscious mind.
And this is the reason why that professor could assume that angels do not have free will. Because they don’t have the option to think critically or make mistakes. This is not to be mistaken for any will at all, which is what Lucifer exhibited during his descent. Your will can be evil, and some people’s wills are – many of these same people consciously fight their will before they give in to it.
The trick is, then, to know your will at its extremes. Know what you’d die for, know what you live for, and know what you absolutely will not allow. If you don’t like what you find, be prepared to fight it for the rest of your life. Or, more simply, take ownership of it, and take comfort in knowing that you’re aware of the things people may not like about you or, for extreme cases, the things that will eventually put you in jail.
And if you’re still skeptical, try fibbing to a lie-detector test.
Filed under: Daily Specials | Tags: confidence, dreams, jazz, lessons, life, music, random, singing, thoughts, voice
Last night’s drink: Contortionist, again. It’s becoming my new favorite.
For those of you that don’t know, I’ve been an aspiring vocalist for the past twenty or so years, with varying levels of confidence and commitment. I’ve sung in choirs, bands, jams, and, of course, had a cameo or two at more karaoke joints than I can count. But this last May, on my 26th birthday, I made a promise to myself to either fish or cut bait on this longtime dream. So I bought myself a keyboard and started writing and playing more guitar, and last night I had my first lesson with a personal voice coach.
Her name is Eleonor England, and already I think she is amazing. When I wrote my mom about the experience last night, I described the environment I walked into to:
“…she has this cute little cottage just outside of North Park with pale yellow walls and the old-style arched doorways separating the rooms. Out front, she has a little front porch consumed with houseplants and climbing vines, and indoors is hard wooden floors, an old dark-oak piano, tons of bookshelves, pictures, old bottles and little antiques..”
Granted, it was dark, but even if my memory doesn’t serve me correctly, this place, and her presence, created the feeling of warmth and organic flow – very similar to my apartment in Redding.
She sat at her piano and asked me to stand behind her so that she could see my reflection in a mirror propped against the wall. In that position, we started with vocal warm-ups, and just from hearing my voice, she could tell that my lower back was tense, and my knees were locked tight – she told me I was very self-aware of how I held my body, which is true. As a tall girl, you are always told to stand straight, and carry yourself with good strong posture. Plus, my crazy 1st stepmom used to always tell me to suck in my gut, so that when I got pregnant one day, it wouldn’t hang out. But that’s another story. That’s a lot of other stories, actually.
Anyways, Ellie talked me through some relaxation exercises that made my legs tingle and my breath sink into my stomach. When I spoke again, it was in a tone that reminded me of cocoa butter – something essentially soft and warm. When she reacted with praise, I was instantly, yet subconsciously, self-aware again. My body sucked itself back into stick-straight tension, and my voice followed suit.
People who are close to me have commented on the fact that I have multiple voices – one voice for ordering food, one voice for work, one voice for friends, one voice for family, one for flirting, one for talking about dreams, one for academic discourse… a different voice for every situation. What I realized last night is that these voices correlate with my level of self-consciousness. The more relaxed and confident I am, the richer and lower my voice becomes. The tighter and more unsure I am, the higher it goes.
Happily, Ellie felt my relaxed voice was a perfect fit for jazz instruction, which is what I intend to pursue. So this weekend I will practice breathing through my capless knees while sinking in mud, smiling with the inside of my mouth, and giving myself permission to breathe above on the crescendo and below on the descent… in za.
That, and studying for my journalism midterm.
Filed under: Daily Specials | Tags: deja vu, dreams, life, psychics, random, reporting, school, thoughts, writing
Last night’s drink: Diet Pepsi.
When I was waiting tables at the Jade Garden in Redding, I had a 60-something regular customer who ordered combination noodle soup, and was sort of obsessed with me. Coincidentally, he was also obsessed with astrology, and he took my birthdate, time of birth, and location of birth, and put together – what else – my astrological birth chart. He returned to the restaurant all excited, and talked me up about how my chart was very unique, because of the balance of the planets being shaped like a bowl… yadda yadda yadda.. and that I had psychic tendencies.
Now, part of me thought that, were he right, I would’ve seen all this coming. “You’re not psychic.. you’re just very intuitive,” he continued. Since my intuition was telling me that this guy was trying in some wierd way to get me into bed… I decided that he needed to find a new regular waitress.
The truth is, though, that what he said stuck with me a little – if for no other reason than my extreme bouts of deja vu. My deja vu isn’t such that I think I’ve done something before, but that I know I’ve dreamed about it before. I will have these vivid dreams about doing really benign things – like highlighting the elements of Faulty Emotional Appeal falacies in a a textbook while concurrently listening to George Noory talk to a caller about the mythical creatures he saw eating from his birdfeeder. Then, two-ish years later, I’ll be doing exactly what I’ve dreamed about. It’ll hit me, and I’ll stop for a second and think, “Woah… happened again,” but since the moment only lasts for 10 seconds or so, life goes on.
I don’t take these dreams and subsequent materializations as evidence that I’m psychic, but more that I’m in tune with whatever plan is laid out for me. It isn’t really destiny, just more of a “right” path. I find that when I’m doing what feels really right to me – like going back to school now – these deja vu moments occur more frequently. So far, I’ve had one for each class. I think they are just little affirmations that I’m going the right way. And for someone with a tragically poor sense of direction such as myself, it’s a welcome wierd-out.
Over five years ago, I opted to shirk the path of journalism for a higher purpose, which is how I finally decided to pursue non-governmental organizations in search of a greater good. While my affirmations were there during my time at UCSD, I think the path was right, but in a way that the greek gods, or whomever, were looking down and saying, “You’re getting warmer… warmer.” As I sat in class last night and watched behind the scenes documentaries of reporters at major events over the last decade, I could practically hear those same bodies screaming from above, “You’re hot – you’re white hot!”
This is so what I’m meant to do that it’s almost intimidating. This is finally where I’ll have connections with my professors, and soak up knowledge like a sponge. I know that every step I took to get here was necessary, and the next two years are sort of like my final exam for the prophetic dreams I’ve had. Now is the time to make it all real.
Don’t ask me about 2012, though.
Filed under: Daily Specials | Tags: babies, dreams, evolution, food, life, literature, love, men, random, sex, thoughts, women
Last night’s drink: Emergen-C.
The hot water is no match for the cold, so the shower will not be hot enough until February, at least.
Cumin in its whole form is so potent, three seeds taste like an entire Indian buffet.
The marmalade has crystalized, so the rinds now taste like candy.
I’m sort of on sensory overload right now. Every flavor, every thought, every emotion or tickle in my throat is consuming me in a gradual way – like a snake swallowing me from the bottom up. Henry Miller is whispering in my ear and my mind is receiving it, masticating, and absorbing the digestable parts. The result is a mind warp where the spread of San Diego looks like a champagne brunch sparkling in the sunlight. I could either order off the menu or walk over to the omelet bar and start kicking the tables over.
Lately, my drug of choice has been the pherormones that won’t leave my pillow, with or without the carrier. Somehow, he is always here when I lay down. We talk about nothing, really, and I file it away. But I wake up with my brain bathed in those invisible hands, and I can’t purge the scent or the visions that come with them. If I’m being honest, though, I haven’t tried.
Evolution is constantly used to explain the present or justify the past. It’s no leap for me, then, to think it can predict the future. If two people have chemistry so strong that their brains completely forfeit control over their bodies, it has to be some primal cue for compatibility. Forget love, trust, upbringing, religion, politics, demeanor, opposites attracting or any of the psychology that flaps its wings around it. I just want to know the physical product of pure, prolonged chemistry.
My guess is that I won’t find out for myself, but I’m inclined to think it’s some sort of baby recipe for divinity. Think of all the naturally perfect one-plus-ones. Honey and peanut butter. Chicken and plum sauce. Coffee and cinnamon. Mozzarella and basil. Chocolate and raspberries. Pecans and brown sugar, carmelized. This wouldn’t just be a love child- it would be Gia covered in cocoa soaking in a buttermilk bath; or Samson dripping with olive oil, tearing apart a garlic baguette.
The say you are what you eat. I bet evolution coined it.
Filed under: Daily Specials | Tags: anxiety, article, brain, daydreams, dreams, fear, Friday, insomnia, life, mind, New York Times, news, random, sleep, thoughts, vacation, Vegas
Last night’s drink: La Borraca Merlot.
It’s Friday. And it’s not just a TGIF kind of Friday – it’s a seriously celebratory, last day before vacation, loving sensation sort of Friday. I can’t believe it’s finally here. I already feel better.
Better, that is, except for the fact that I can’t sleep. I’ve been having more dreams, and less comfortable sleep, but it has nothing to do with the physical accomodations of my bed or my apartment, because I’ve been in both for years now. It’s just this overall sensation of discomfort – almost like a sticky, humid fog just sitting inside me. And the dreams are not helping. I wake up many times in an unidentified panic. Something’s chasing me… or the day is escaping me; either way, I’m slipping.
I read an article this morning in the New York Times on “…Why We Dream At All,” which concluded that dreams are a sort of “fear extinction” mechanism in your brain. The majority of dreams that people have are bad dreams. In dreaming, your body is sort of exorcising your anxieties by wrestling with them in a no-holds barred arena, where anything is possible. If you make it through your dream, the author says, you’ve successfully rid yourself of that fear. If you’re awakened by it, though, it’s still sitting in there.
As I commented in a previous post, the nightmares I have are typically reoccurring. I immediately recognize them once I’m in them, but when I try to remember them while I’m awake, it’s really hard. And there are quiet a few. I think the reason why they are so hard to conjure has to do with the fact that the things that make them so unpleasant have less to do with tangibles (like, being stabbed) and more to do with that muffling type of anxiety that comes with yucky feelings like futility, hurt, anger, lonliness, etc. Maybe these things take more than dreams to flush them away, though. Or maybe the reason I can’t recall these dreams is because my conscious mind just doesn’t want to go there.
A couple of years ago, Z was really into taking charge of his dreams, or Lucid Dreaming. I’ve never done it, but basically it’s the art of pushing for awareness in your dreams, and then taking control of them. For example, I remember him telling me once about a dream in which he sort of took control of his thoughts and started flying. Maybe this technique could be used to get a better handle on dealing with your emotions? So, if you decided that the middle of a nightmare was a good time to try a little lucidity, would you be taking hold of your emotions, or simply denying them? If my mind would rather deal with my emotions in my dreams than in my consciousness, then why would it try to be conscious for emotional abatement, given the option? Sounds like a recipe for really screwing with my head.
The article didn’t mention anything about daydreaming, which has taken hold of me a couple of times recently. I find, though, that I have to start that process – it doesn’t just come to me while I’m looking at numbers on reports or pumping gas. I have to actively think about daydreaming a scenario before it actually happens. Is that normal?
You don’t hear a lot of people analyzing daydreams. Maybe that’s because it’s sort of a sacred ground where you have to feel free to swim in a giant pool full of plastic playland balls, or play on the world’s largest cushioned slip-n-slide, or have a fabulous dinner with a perfect glass of wine on the Rhone, or cuddle with one of those smoosh-face cats on a giant bed with silk sheets and linen pajamas, or wake up in a beautiful bed and breakfast on the Mendocino coast, or lounge like a rich person mid-week in Vegas.
At least that last one won’t be a dream for long. Long live A&J.
Filed under: On the House | Tags: , coffee, dreams, insomnia, life, morning, October, random, shower, thoughts, work
This Morning’s Drink: SLO Roasted Peruvian blend coffee (the best on Earth – seriously).
My alarm was set for 4:30 a.m. this morning, but I kept having these awful dreams that awoke me at 1, 2, 3 a.m., so that I finally opted for a little peace from my brain, and got an early start to the day.
Usually my nightmares are very similar or even repeats, but the ones last night were brand new. A giant spider living in my heater that was just waiting for the right moment to snip my limbs off at the joints. A crazy man in the middle of the road back home in Dairyville who ran me off the road and into a ditch where he tried to drown me. Those are the two I remember most vividly. The others had to do with a bunch of shapeless images and feelings that I can’t quite describe, though I do recall a lot of dust flying around.
Wow, I already have to get in the shower in 15 minutes. I hate being rushed by life. It’s one of the few things that my insides throw a two-year-old tantrum against. It’s no use, though – life always has the upper hand. And then it’s like, when I get in the shower, life has bested me yet again! For awhile, this was happening every morning before work, and it was really bringing me down. I was so tired that I couldn’t stay awake, and I couldn’t get up early enough to have a little bit of quiet time before the raucus behavior of the day. Too bad it isn’t raucus because I have unique problems, like my two-headed cat won’t stop fighting itself over its Fancy Feast, or the engine of my Delorian keeps cutting out at traffic lights. At least then there would be some new discovery in my problem solving. The stuff I have to deal with now, I feel like I’ve heard it all before on talk radio.
I’ll be so glad when October is over. Something about this month raked me over the coals… and it wasn’t just the So Cal fires. To top it all off, since the fires are threatening to divert a huge chunk of my nonprofit’s income, it looks like I won’t be getting that raise after all.. I’ll be lucky if I get the annual 3% in June. I do love my job again, and I’m sure that I wasn’t meant to take that other offer. But what exactly is the lesson here… don’t follow your gut if it isn’t what Dad told you? I love and admire my Dad to bits, but what a bunch of crap. I guess it is that you make your decisions, and you go with them. I think our nature is to second guess ourselves.
Three minutes until mandatory shower time. I guess I should get the final warm up on my coffee before I brush my teeth. The good news is that it’s Tuesday, and that it will be over early. And in a week from today, I will be flying into my own personal heaven.
