I had a dream of cities, of going places and meeting people. I had a dream of dining with parents and lovers, and I had a dream of dying. And then another. And another. I have a habit of being shot through the heart these nights. I’m not trained in the arts of the meanings of dreams, so I can only take from them what impression they leave in me. I wake up not frightened, not angry, not scared. I simply wake up and realize I wasn’t shot after all. I turn around and fall asleep again. I sometimes sigh. I sometimes cry – but whether they’re tears of relief or something more sinister I can’t tell. But I acknowledge that I can keep on living for another day, even if I will have to go on living with the knowledge that I felt perfectly fine dying in that moment. It was bound to come at some point, I suppose. I’ve always dared death to come at me with all it’s got.
The most lasting impression of those dreams is a sense of calmness. I’m just perfectly okay with dying in those moments, and I guess it… comforts me, but at the same time it frightens me somewhat. It makes me question my life: do I have nothing that I really want to stay alive for? Am I just ready to go if it is to be? I don’t know. I’ve always maintained that death is just that: death. But at the same time it’s DEATH. It’s nothing, it’s no-more. And that’s what’s so confusing. There’s really nothing you can do about it, and I’m tired of this world trying to cure every disease, trying to keep us alive for as long as possible. Why? Why should we live to be a hundred years old if our bodies just weren’t wired that way? We will see more happy moments the longer we live, surely, but if we die we simply won’t know of the moments to come. There’s everything to gain by living, but nothing to lose by dying.
I took a walk in the sunset tonight, past the church, down through the city and all the way to the castle yard, with its flowers and trees, paths and rivers. I had music in my ears when I walked to it, but I always remove my headphones when I walk into the yard, preferring to listen to the silence and birds. Preferring indeed to feel how the outside world can keep my thoughts at bay. I miss the end of bridges, the open oceans from my home town. I miss sitting down with my feet in the water, becoming part of that big blue that stretches all around the world. I miss trying to feel the currents of Japan from Denmark.
I miss my stupid belief in coherence, in some sort of holism. I’m faced with the task of specializing in the field of Philosophy. And I’m at that point where every new option sounds extremely good to me. I swear, I feel like a first-year student again, believing everything I hear, thinking to myself: “wow!” I will try to pull myself together and find ways to weave through these options so I can end up with a line of enquiry that I find interesting in two years as well as in two weeks. I just hate decisions. My most convincing argument for free will is that there is no way anyone or anything could have designed me to dodge decisions this often. Decisions, situations, you name it, I dodge it. I get so tired of myself every now and then.
The sky seems more full of airplanes these days. That tends to happen whenever I really begin to feel stuck in a place and look for new experiences, new challenges. I really hope my plan to go to Austria next summer will come through. Otherwise I’ll have to just go and do something on my own. I have to get away. I have to see something different. Mountains, languages I don’t speak, food I’ve never tasted, bad music that becomes good for its novelty. I need something new.
So baby, what we’ve got
has lately not been enough.
(Kings of Convenience: Stay Out of Trouble) It seems like forever since I last quoted a song in a blog post. I really ought to make some form of change inside my apartment. If nothing else then just tidy up the place; get rid of the things I’ve come to realize that I don’t ever use. I always bring too many things with me when I move. It’s silly, really, and now I’m just stuck with them. I never manage to take a deep, hard look at everything and throw the things away that have no use to me. I don’t know if I’m sentimental to things. I guess I am. I can think of a hundred ways some little piece of cardboard might come in handy in the future … distant future. So I won’t get rid of it. Well enough, I say, enough with this nonsense!
I’ve been thinking a lot about my wardrobe this past week. I think I’m ready to shift into a more “mature” style. I’ve come to like shirts, I just don’t own a whole bunch of them. I’m very much a t-shirt and sweatshirt guy. Comfort and band merchandise throughout. But I think part of this new-me project – that I’m apparently in the midst of – consists of changing into a person that looks more like someone with an actual future. Maybe that way I can forge a lasting impression on myself so I won’t have to constantly doubt whether or not I’m cut out for life. If I look the part, then hey: it must be true!
Passion and its brother hate, they come and go
It could easily be made to stay for longer though
Many people play this game so willingly
Do I have to be like them, or be lonely?
Love is no big truth
Driven by our genes, we are simple selfish beings
A symphony that’s you
Joyously awaking the ignorant and sleeping
Of what there is to it
Getting me through it
(Kings of Convenience: Love is No Big Truth) You told me about the time you stood right behind Kings of Convenience at a concert with some other band and were too afraid to go talk to them. Paralysis. That’s what I feel around most people. There were people in the castle yard which made me take a huge detour around that section of the yard so I wouldn’t have to somehow end up in some imagined situation where I would have to talk to them because hey that would just be the end of the world am I right? See why I hate myself? God I’m so bad at anything “social”. And yet the novel I’m writing is going to be composed of a lot of the social moments from my life. They’re always the ones that stick out, which should spur me on, but I guess that’s also part of the reason why I’m afraid of the social gathering. Even though I rarely end up taking center stage, I’m always certain that I will end up making a fool of myself. I’m always certain that I won’t fit in, and when you enter society with that mindset, then damn right, you won’t fit in, or blend in, or be anything with the word “in” in it. You won’t even be in trouble. You’ll just be – on the outskirts of society, looking in from the outside. You’ll be me.