I’ve Dreamed Of Jason Momoa

You know… the Aqua man. No, I am not a fan. I saw him briefly in GOT and tried to watch the Aquaman movie a while ago but I find it chaotic and childish. So, after about a quarter of an hour I called it quits. Shorter than the time I tried to watch Harry Potter films. That was a record.

In my dream we were travelling somewhere together with D. and a girl-woman who was a bit of an alternative chick. Wears black; short bob hair and no face. She didn’t fancy Jason Momoa either. So it seemed. As expected; women fell around him wherever we went but he seemed oblivious to the fact. Instead he concentrated on us; me in particular. No, I am not narcissistic, no delusions of grandeur or anything or otherwise I would replace Aquaman with Nadal.

I think the place was Nepal or somewhere in the vicinity because the mountains are gorgeous (no, it wasn’t the Alps) and there were lots of indigenous people and culture a volonté. Plenty of nature and far away picture perfect scenery.

The longer we travel the more intimate Jason became with his sweet words and gestures. He begun touching me too. A hand there, an arm over my shoulder or on the small of my back. Longer eye contact too. To me, personally it is nothing. Been there done that in my younger years. Too much for my liking. The more he did those personalized attentions, the more the alternative chick disliked me. No, she didn’t say a thing but I am an expert on body language and reading between the lines. D. kept quiet.

One time D. went to the nearest ATM while Jason was showing me the range or mountains outside the window his arm around me while the girl-woman after a tantrum was decided to go on her own and was waiting for a ride sitting at the bus stop that looked like a piece of some amphitheater. All of us situated in one place in a triangular position within hearing distance of each other. How could that be? Perhaps the hotel or whatever it was me and Jason were in was in fact not a room but a veranda that’s why I could see both D. and the alternative chick and they could see me.

After a time, D. came back with a series of figures on a piece of paper. To make the story short, he was accusing me in a subtle way ( he is always subtle) of withdrawing some amount from our joint account and giving them to Aquaman. I started bawling out of misery. How could he thought of me that way. I never give money to a guy. My attention for a while is more than enough I always believe. Anyway, in the middle of my bawling I suddenly stopped and thought: Hmmm… Perhaps he was reversing the situation. Maybe it was him who gave some dough to that alternative chick. Come to think of it, she is more his type than I am and she clearly showed some hidden soft spot for him and why should Jason be interested in our money? So, I told D. to produce some evidence in a form of bank statement/balance that showing I withdraw some money from our account and he had to prove that he didn’t do it either.

Then, I woke up.

Recalling the dream I realized that there could be another side to the story. Maybe Jason Momoa and the girl-woman were on it together. Perhaps they made an agreement to con us. Work the lady I work the man and see who is going to melt first. If that was true. I’m sure D. would be the one who will succumb to the temptation. Why I think that? Because Like I said before, I’ve been there done that hundred times and back and I could proudly say it never happened to me. D. on the other hand is more gullible when it comes to this sort of things. I will not elaborate but I have a proof to my claim. Besides, he is somewhat innocent and totally lack of any experience dealing with people. He simply could not read them and their intentions.

Why it is that whenever D. appeared in my dreams it was always either he is leaving me or exchanging me for another woman. Don’t say it’s my hidden fear because it is not. My hidden fear is being buried alive.

Anyway, having an almost romantic encounter with Jason Momoa in a dream is preferable than having an affair with a bald politician or my nipple being sucked by a singer who actually cannot sing.

Till next time.

This Is Me Today

Sometimes I wonder if the reality is the dream and the dream the reality. What if I thought I was waking up but the truth is I was falling asleep instead. And all the time I thought I was dreaming it was in fact my life, my real life. I once had that feelings with my ex-husband. I’d felt that I was living in a dream (in my case the worst nightmare) and in any moment I will wake up and will find myself in another situation, in another place, living different life. Back then I had a feeling of being in transition, not unlike being in a train station, or aboard a plane to somewhere. I felt like I was just passing through. Ever had that feelings? Perhaps it was just a hope, a fantasy, to escape the harshness of reality, to protect my sanity, creating a buffer to soften the blows. I don’t know. I have outrageous thoughts sometimes. I can’t help it. My mind tend to run wild, creating havoc to my inner peace. But what can I do? I am who I am.

I dreamed I was a butterfly, flitting around in the sky; then I awoke. Now I wonder: Am I a man who dreamt of being a butterfly, or am I a butterfly dreaming that I am a man?

Too weird to live, too rare to die

I have people and places that I only know in my dreams. Not fantasy, just good old fashioned dream. Nightmares sometimes. Or most of the time for I never dream happy. Happy isn’t for me. In dreams or reality.

They come back in my reoccurring visions (or hallucinations if you prefer) oftentimes in the same dream which funny enough continues after I woke up and go back to sleep. I can even put them on hold or redirect the circumstances according to my wish. Some dreams feel more real than the others and more vivid than reality.

People say dreams are just memories one has long forgotten. I don’t believe them. Surely you can’t forget those that make you feel___ different for lack of a better word. And memories are from the past, not recent. Or perhaps (arguably) I mix the past with the present/recent. Because most of them are grown-ups interacting with a grown-up me.

And most of the places in my dreams are venues I have never been to. I know that for sure. How many yellow cities are there, which collapsed to reveal another layer? A city within a city. Something like that.

I know, most dreams are weird and don’t make sense, but people with faces I don’t recognize? C’mon…

They feel familiar though. As if I have known them all my life. Some I wish I really have known because they give positive vibes and make me feel safe.

The great Edgar Allan Poe once said:

You are not wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream;
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream…

What do you think?

Waiting To Exhale

Who out there (like me) is craving/dreaming/ fantasizing about something like this?

It used to be my backyard. I grew up in places (yes places) like this one and that time like most people who are living in what westerners called “paradise”  I didn’t realize how lucky I was. I wish to go back there right now. Not to live but to breathe, away from hassle and bustle of the rat race and soak the atmosphere and for a while relived the memories of my youth, when in spite of the “circumstances ” life is a little bit simpler.

Sinbad Of The Seven Seas

Let those who wish have their respectability- I wanted freedom, freedom to indulge in whatever caprice struck my fancy, freedom to search in the farthermost corners of the earth for the beautiful, the joyous, and the romantic.

Time Traveler

Just because I’ve made it all up doesn’t mean it isn’t true.

Remember this, this, this and this? Among so many others that belonged to this category? Check it out and we will discuss it when you come back.

Done?

Okay.

My son once told me that I imagined the whole thing. When I asked him why it seems so real he said because to me it is. Granted. Maybe I hallucinated the ones that involved solely me. But what about those times when there were other people present, they have imagined the whole episode with me as well? How you call that? Collective insanity? Folie à deux? Herd mentality? Mass delusion? Tell me.

Do you believe in magic?  I don’t.

Not even after those experiences which have no logical explanations. But I strongly believe in a parallel universe(s) and other dimensions and I also believe that there are people who are able to navigate in both. I don’t know if I will consider that ability a gift or a curse. Personally, I don’t mind the idea as long as the traveling stays more or less cozy and doable but not when things turn into some kind of nightmares and you end up running for your life.

What about you?

What do you believe in?

What Can I Say?

Of this I am absolutely sure: Do not reach the era of child-rearing and real jobs with a guitar case full of crushing regret for all the things you wished you’d done in your youth. I know too many people who didn’t do those things. They all end up mingy, addled, shrink-wrapped versions of the people they intended to be. – Cheryl Strayed

I didn’t want to get married and have children. I didn’t want to be a wife or a mother. Or anything domesticated. I want to be Sinbad, Scully, Stephen King, Steve McQueen, Eric The Phantom and Indiana Jones or anything in between as long as it doesn’t spell boring. I want to be John Snow, Spirit of the Cimmaron Lara Croft and Aragorn. I want to be a gypsy child in the midst of Bohemianism.

To take the world as one finds it, the bad with the good, making the best of the present moment—to laugh at Fortune alike whether she be generous or unkind—to spend freely when one has money, and to hope gaily when one has none—to fleet the time carelessly, living for love and art— for in Bohemia one may find almost every sin save that of Hypocrisy. [source: Wikipedia]

What, then, is it that makes this mystical empire of Bohemia unique, and what is the charm of its mental fairyland? It is this: there are no roads in all Bohemia! One must choose and find one’s own path, be one’s own self, live one’s own life. — Ayloh, 1902

Look where I am now!

But then again, I have lived a thousand lives others can’t even imagine in their wildest dreams. I’ve’ walked to hell and back, visited heaven and been everywhere in between. People often say I’ve been there done that when what they really meant is they know how it feels to stand at the edge of a crater but they never really experience how it is to descend to the bottom. I can honestly say I did. Countless times.

In my dying bed, I will not lie there and regret everything I should have done but never dare or tried because I know for a fact that compared to most, I have lived a colorful life, even though none of those are the ones I truly wanted.

July Once Again

But here I am in July, and why am I thinking about Christmas pudding? Probably because we always pine for what we do not have. The winter seems cozy and romantic in the hell of summer, but hot beaches and sunlight are what we yearn for all winter. ― Joanna Franklin Bell

You Nailed It!

Happiness! Oh boy, oh boy — do I get to tell you all about happiness today? Wowzers… but who am I to start pretending I know anything about happiness?⁣
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Nope, I don’t know what happiness is. In fact, I have a hunch no one does — anyone and everyone seems to define it differently, pursue it differently, but whoever actually gets there?⁣
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Sure, some people manage to get rich — but do they get happy in the process? At first, a little, maybe — but does that stick?⁣
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The most common definition of happiness out there seems to equate it to feeling good. But does feeling good lead to happiness? Well, does smoking crack lead to happiness?⁣
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You may feel I’m exaggerating right now, and I am — except I’m not. When we pursue pleasure or means of gaining pleasure, we’re doing the same as looking for a crack hit, albeit with a more “reasonable” attitude. By “reasonable”, I mean that the negative side-effects aren’t as immediately obvious or destructive.⁣
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For example, there are these people I know who went on to pursue a career to make lots of money, invested all that money in a cool house with a kick-ass pool in the backyard. They bought a boat, too — a nice one. They drank wine, ate steak — they weren’t exactly rich but upper-middle-class. They had a sweet life. But then eventually, it stopped working. Whatever they spent their lives doing became boring — a pool, a boat, and even wine will keep you entertained for only so long until you need to move on to something else.⁣
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Everything gets boring sooner or later. When it does, we need new and more intense excitement to keep us to that same level of happiness. But there’s a catch with all this: money. Better wine, a bigger house, and ever more exotic travels cost more money.⁣
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When my two friends’ careers leveled off, when the salaries stopped going up, then that pursuit of happiness reached a serious snag. They couldn’t get their necessary hits of pleasure anymore, and so they started being depressed. They started smoking more, drinking more, watching more TV and going out less. And eventually, that killed them.⁣
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Not that there’s anything wrong with dying. I mean we all die anyway, but it’d be nice not to end our days miserable and completely lost in our souls, still vehemently looking for solace in pleasure. It’d be nice to die peaceful, wouldn’t it?⁣
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I can’t tell you what happiness is, but I can tell you what it’s not: a pursuit. Happiness isn’t there, it’s not anywhere — it can’t be gained, if we try to catch it’ll just slip away. That’s why they call it a pursuit. It’s an eternal carrot on a stick.⁣
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This pursuit, that constant desire for something more, is what’s keeping us nicely chained and well-behaved members of consumerist societies. In the past, it was a religion that kept us chained and well-behaved — religion being the promise of something better in the hereafter. Consumerism outsmarted religion by offering the hope of something better in the therebefore, within this lifetime.⁣
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But it’s still hope, and the system is entirely dependent on hope remaining hope.⁣
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No, this won’t do at all. Happiness isn’t something to be hoped for — that turns the whole experience of life into one major crack addiction.⁣
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Happiness, if it has to be anything, has to be in the here and now. Look around you, savor the beauty, enjoy the air. It’s not about how lucky or comfortable you are — it’s about how crazy, interesting, and beautiful this world is beyond our own personal needs or desires.⁣

Happily here, happily now,

—Day THe Spiritual Astronaut

The hierarchy of needs

To be beautiful means to be yourself. You don’t need to be accepted by others. You need to accept yourself. When you are born a lotus flower, be a beautiful lotus flower, don’t try to be a magnolia flower. If you crave acceptance and recognition and try to change yourself to fit what other people want you to be, you will suffer all your life. True happiness and true power lie in understanding yourself, accepting yourself, having confidence in yourself. ― ~Thích Nhất Hạnh

This above quote made me think of Maslow’s hierarchy of needs which btw I failed miserably on all levels, no wonder I grew up to be the person I am today. On the other hand, I don’t exhibit most of the symptoms that I supposed to be having being deprived of almost all the basic needs that made up the whole pyramid. For example, I practice the above quote without knowing and I don’t crave attention, love or acceptance. I don’t form an attachment to anything or anyone But then again maybe I am what I am because I never pass the first hurdle which is the psychological needs. This means that if a human is struggling to meet their physiological needs, then they are unlikely to intrinsically pursue safety, belongingness, esteem, and self-actualization. That explains probably why. Perhaps my greatest issue is Self-actualization, which actually is not a surprise according to Maslow’s theory. Maslow believed that to understand this level of need, the person must not only achieve the previous needs but master them. Though I believe and practice religiously what my father instilled into me which is to fulfill any task big or small with my utmost best, heart and soul or do not do it at all, I failed to utilize my talents and abilities pursuing my dreams (I prefer to call them that instead of goals) meaning success for me means translating one’s capabilities into monetary aspect. I wonder where that came from. It’s just so. And if my daughter is to be believed, my parenting proficiency is also next to nothing and let’s not talk about pursuing happiness because I miserably failed on that level too. So, what’s left? Me, a failure on all counts.

And…

… people who don’t dream, who don’t have any kind of imaginative life, they must… they must go nuts. I can’t imagine that…

What Are We Waiting For?

After living in the dark for so long, a glimpse of the light can make you giddy. Strange thoughts come into your head and you better think’em. Has a special fate been calling you and you’re not listening? Is there a secret message right in front of you and you’re not reading it? Is this your last, best chance? Are you gonna take it? Or are you going to the grave with unlived lives in your veins?  ~Justine

It made me think of a horse that had been let out the corral after being held in there for so long.

It reminded me of myself when I feel “good” and want to do everything before my expiration date.

I compare it to people who worked and lived for mortgages, education of their children, bills etc. and at 65 found themselves free of obligations at last and try to cramp their dreams and fantasies into that little time left before it is too late not realizing it really is because the things you can do in your 20s you can impossibly do in your 60s and the experience is not the same.

You simply cannot wait to live.

So, what are we waiting for?

You know what they say…

Better late than never.

Mr. Right

If someone would ask me which part in a movie I would like to play, that would be of Bathsheba Everdene, the heroine in Thomas Hardy’s Far From The Madding Crowd. And like Carey Mulligan, who insisted and got what she wanted, I would love Matthias Schoenaerts to play Gabriel Oak. Heck, I would play any part opposite him. Physically, the guy has everything I don’t fancy in a man but there is something about him that makes him so irresistible and he is a Belgian which makes him more accessible to me. Dream big right?

On the other hand, the storyline isn’t new to me. Move over Bathsheba, if you got three suitors vying for your attention, I once had five if not an entire basketball team.

But that was once upon a time.

Dreaming of Matthias Schoenaerts is what’s now left of my once technicolor life.

Still, dream big right?

And keep dreaming…