Crazy

I was with a friend a few years ago, eating white cheddar fries in Chimara, when, all of a sudden, I had an out-of-body experience. Nothing supernatural, mind you, only a vague but still weirdly acute sense of perspective I have never felt before. Everything just seemed so...arbitrary...and absurd. Does that make sense?

The closest analogy I can think of that approximates the feeling is when you stare at a word long enough that it stops making any sense. Except it has not changed one bit; the thing that changed is your perspective.

Only this time, it was not one word, but the whole world, and in a freaky, fleeting instant. Everything just seemed really, really absurd. I suddenly realized I was eating a root crop fried in a vat of oil squeezed from vegetables, and then sprinkled with a liquid squirted from a fat animal that is left to basically rot before it was turned to powder form. But with no words, and not just with my fries, but with everything else. It was as if all intellectual barriers had been destroyed, and I was left with nothing but a clear perspective of how absurd everything really is.

Then I started to laugh. My friend asked what I was laughing about and I tried explaining it to him but I couldn't so I let it go at that. He understood, he said, but I don't think he really absolutely did, because, well, I didn't.

It was strange. If it wasn't as fleeting as it was, I probably would have difficulty finding a reason to get out of bed in the morning.

I wonder if there are people who live like this everyday. I wonder how they cope with it.

Photo taken here.

Dreams are tricky bastards

I've been having some really fucked-up dreams lately, and I'm not sure what to do with them. It's probably connected to the incredible amount of pressure I've been under recently, and since there's nothing I can do about that anytime soon, I guess I'll just have to deal with it.

The weirdest one was where I was shooting a sex video with a flamboyant straight guy in a silver thong while a group of transsexuals pranced around. It was also a music video. The dream made it abundantly clear that the guy in the silver thong was straight, only he likes having sex with transsexuals. In the dream, I believed him.

A friend told me that dreams are a reflection of our subconscious. I told him that I'm pretty sure my subconscious is not telling me I really want to have sex with either transsexuals or flamboyant straight guys in silver thongs if that was what he was implying. He said nothing and looked away. I told him I'm already gay damnit. I don't need to make my sex life more complicated.

Another dream involved my nephews. They were drowning in tiny bathtubs. The dream focused on the small bubbles forming at the corners of their small, silent mouths.

That was a nightmare. I woke up, heart pounding, and almost threw up.

Then there was that dream 10 years ago, where I fell in love with a made-up man. Faceless, and always naked. In the dream I said I didn't want to wake up because I knew he would leave, and he said he will never leave me, and that I had to go. I woke up and felt my heart break.

He visited me again a few weeks ago. He was dressed this time in a yellow shirt and jeans, and he said it was nice to see me. I said I missed him, and accused him of breaking his promise. He smiled (or at least there was an aura of a smile, he was still faceless). I said I know you're a dream, I don't love you anymore. He said you don't love me not because I'm a dream, but because you already love someone else.

I woke up.

Dreams are tricky bastards.