Today I dreamed about that blond lady again. She is someone I know for many years, and I like her a lot. She is someone who I have never desired as usually men desire women, but yes, I desire her welfare. She is someone whose I do care a lot. And taking this world we live in as a basis, I am sure she doesn't understand this affection of mine for her. I always say I like her, and I'm sure thousands of things cross her mind, except what I am really meaning to say to her. But why do I keep on saying? Because it is of my personality!
Time and time again I dream about her. All sort of dreams. The most chaotic dreams I wonder a lot about because today I know that she became some kind of symbol to me. So it is like these most chaotic dreams were not exactly "her" who would be there, but actually a side of me that looks like her.
I always use to write her requesting some news whenever I have bad dreams about her. Of course she doesn't understand that, yet because she is irreverent to subjects such astral travels, astral projections, regressions, spiritualism, etc... But recently only I had the opportunity of, in a private conversation we had, confess her that almost always I dream about her she is crying. Because all the times I said “Hey! I dreamed about thee last night; Is it everything fine there?” I never told how the dream was, because I know she is not interested in these kind of subjects. And I don't even know if she is interested in what I think or don't think about her.
This is the truth. I almost always dream about her being sad, in cloudy days, crying. And everytime this happens I get shaken for all the day long, and at times for the week long. Today for instance, I woke up crying.
However today, was the very first time in these eighteen years I know her that I dreamed that I kissed her. I mean, kissing the way usually a man desires to do with a woman.
The place was a big club, one of these with swimming pools, restaurants, recreation area, indoor sports complex, bars, nightclubs,etc... that in fact it exists in reality. It stands there in my homeland Rio de Janeiro. Very far from the cirty, having to use winding roads amongst huge rocks that only those who have been in Rio de Janeiro know what I am talking about. This club stands at the top of a rock which is disconnected from the continent, in a manner that there is a small pedestrian bridge way that we must go across to get there, leaving our cars behind.
I frequent that club often until I was eighth year old, that was the age I was when I left Rio de Janeiro. So to all to understand me, the fact that I've been there in this dream, makes me nostalgic. That longing for childhood that we all have.
I happened in a nightclub inside this club, it was a party as any other. And I, as usual, don't get joy in parties as most people do. Maybe because I am of another suit*. Or of another planet. Who knows?
It was already dawning, and I was there, roaming in between the different environments of that party, until the moment I went up some stairs those lead to a bar where the sound of the music was way soft and the “climate” was more calm, and I went up amusing myself with a bird that was walking beside me. I was with my hands in my pocket and I took weird steps just like the bird that was walking and looking at me concerned if I was going to hurt it or not.
The same way regardless how good the friendship between a human and an animal, the animal is always limited. With humor and concerns limited at the level of an animal, therefore it doesn't matter how much a person says that a certain animal completes him or her and that animal is the love of his or her life, this person will always feel loneliness at the moment when he or she point to the Moon as a manner of sharing a welfare he or she is feeling, and his or her animal will do nothing beyond staring at his or her finger.
Therefore, that momentary friendship I had with that bird was not reciprocal. Because it was only me who was having fun by walking side by side mocking its steps and way of walking, and enjoying the illusion of us being similar, partners somehow. When in fact the bird was feeling fear about me being or not being a predator.
Evidently the bird there in the dream was a metaphor, and not a bird. Its function is to make me wonder about the subject(matter?) “friendships” in this life.
Arriving at the top of the stairs, I felt this huge tiredness of living that I feel and carry with me for many years. This sadness which was disguised with a brief smile from the walking with the bird. And there it was when I heard her voice. Voice which I appreciate to hear so much. She said “Wow! How “classy” thou ist!”. I don't even know if this term exists, but probably it was because I was well dressed to the party. Brand new clothes, clean clothes, expensive clothes. Despite they were black as usual, it was noticeable the quality of the fabrics. My long hairs sliding on my back and slightly flowing in the air by the breeze were with a shine and softness never seen before. Maybe all this impeccability of my appearance, this such “classy” that she referred, was a reflex of my soul. A reflex of a state of spirit. The such ideal that we all seek in our beings.
At hearing her, I looked forward, and I could see her sitting on a comfortable armchair of that bar, and at her side I saw my shadow cast, because the Sun had just rose and hit us horizontally by my back. She then stood up and came to me to greet me when I was about to walk up the last stair. This caused us the impression of both having the same height. Thus it made a well-fit hug.
When hugging her, instead of kissing her face, I kissed her neck. But it was more for not interrupting the hug than for malice. And there it was that she said something like “Don't to that or else I won't control myself!”. As she doesn't behave like this with me, actually this is some aspect of hers that I don't even know because we always have been friends only, what I deduced from that in that moment was that she might be drunk.
Then I loosed a little the hug in a way we could look each other in the eyes. And I could notice her with a distinctness that even scares me. Her face was the same of always, all the colors pointed out due to the morning Sun light hitting her directly from her front, and also due to the “over perception” we have when we are dreaming. It was the same beauty of always, the same beauty I am used to, the beauty that she erst told me she didn't like to have it, however I was admiring it in a new different way. Maybe because I were drunk. But not drunk from drinking as she was, but drunk from this feeling of sadness of mine and dissatisfaction for living in this world. The tiredness of this mission. The desire of going back home.
So I said her name and next I told her that she was beautiful. And in this meanwhile I remembered that she doesn't like to be beautiful, and when I repeated I said to her: “Forgive me but I think thou ist very beautiful!”. And in fact she is. And maybe the reason why I admire her so much is because as she doesn't like to be beautiful, she doesn't try to be beautiful. She doesn't fake any attribute as the overwhelming majority of other women do. This makes her owner of a genuine beauty. And as I am obsessed by the “path of truth”, I get even more attracted by beauties of this kind. Such a shame this is rare in this world.
It was in this moment for us being so close and she seems to be so comfortable with that, I decided to kiss her on her mouth. A gentle and soft kiss. There is no reason for me to get into the details also because it was brief. What it has of abnormal is that it doesn't match with the friendship we have.
Right after this we sat down on the armchairs which were almost one in front of the other. And I said I was very happy for her being there, and I explained that I used to frequent that place when I was a kid. And who would guess, there she was with me. In this moment was possible to see that small bridge way through the window behind her. And she wasn't looking at me, she was looking at the door behind me. And there it was that same sad look in her eyes again. She seemed to be looking at that door as she were waiting for someone.
By these “surrealities” of dreams, all of a sudden it seemed that I wasn't actually sitting there in front of her anymore, but actually as if I were receiving that view of her being sad at a bar waiting for someone who never shows up. And in this meanwhile I thought if it would be something wrong with her boyfriend. Some mismatch. Something that led her that way.
When I stopped paying attention in her so I could pay attention in me, I was on the other side of that bar, sitting at a table, and that now seemed to be happened on another day. Because the sky was different and she wasn't there anymore. An old music were playing in the television. Music from my teenager days. And in that moment I was understanding that music in another way.
So it passed me the impression that I was in that bar, in a future time and remembering of a past time when I was her there in that party.
Me, sitting at a table of a bar, with a glass of tea in front of me, watching the television which was near the ceiling, and thinking about her as the characters of that music video looked like coming out from the screen and that scene act was happening around me in a superimposed manner. And in the following moment I woke up crying.
I don't usually cry, I guess as the most men who grow in a culture that preaches that a man is supposed to be rigid, tough and never cries. But this is the second time I cried in this month. The previous time I haven't had time to write about it, but I will. Because I don't write actually to public, but to better understand myself. When we write, we put facts and thoughts in an order and speed which facilitates the comprehension. And all I want is to comprehend in a way that I can leave at last.
Perhaps I might be just sensitized because I hate Octobers. For me the end of the year starts in this month, and I don't feel well in these year endings, specially in new year celebrations. I don't know for sure. I also don't know why this lady in particular is so precious to me to the point of torturing me the idea of her being sad, bad or sick.
And yet she is not, it is just something I dreamed, I get bad. I feel awful. It is really a torture to me. I have nightmares too. Dreams with persecutions, with monsters, disgraces, etc... Mas one dream about her, yet beautiful visually speaking as the one of this last night was, if the context were of her being sad, when I wake up the dream reverberates bad in me throughout the day, as so a nightmare does.
I yet have to understand it all, to know what is the symbol that uses her image to communicate with me in my dreams.
Just in case, now I do my prayers to her. I pray for that what I believe to protect her from the evils of this world. I pray for her welfare, also because I get hurt indirectly whenever something bad happens to her.
Time and time again I dream about her. All sort of dreams. The most chaotic dreams I wonder a lot about because today I know that she became some kind of symbol to me. So it is like these most chaotic dreams were not exactly "her" who would be there, but actually a side of me that looks like her.
I always use to write her requesting some news whenever I have bad dreams about her. Of course she doesn't understand that, yet because she is irreverent to subjects such astral travels, astral projections, regressions, spiritualism, etc... But recently only I had the opportunity of, in a private conversation we had, confess her that almost always I dream about her she is crying. Because all the times I said “Hey! I dreamed about thee last night; Is it everything fine there?” I never told how the dream was, because I know she is not interested in these kind of subjects. And I don't even know if she is interested in what I think or don't think about her.
This is the truth. I almost always dream about her being sad, in cloudy days, crying. And everytime this happens I get shaken for all the day long, and at times for the week long. Today for instance, I woke up crying.
However today, was the very first time in these eighteen years I know her that I dreamed that I kissed her. I mean, kissing the way usually a man desires to do with a woman.
The place was a big club, one of these with swimming pools, restaurants, recreation area, indoor sports complex, bars, nightclubs,etc... that in fact it exists in reality. It stands there in my homeland Rio de Janeiro. Very far from the cirty, having to use winding roads amongst huge rocks that only those who have been in Rio de Janeiro know what I am talking about. This club stands at the top of a rock which is disconnected from the continent, in a manner that there is a small pedestrian bridge way that we must go across to get there, leaving our cars behind.
I frequent that club often until I was eighth year old, that was the age I was when I left Rio de Janeiro. So to all to understand me, the fact that I've been there in this dream, makes me nostalgic. That longing for childhood that we all have.
I happened in a nightclub inside this club, it was a party as any other. And I, as usual, don't get joy in parties as most people do. Maybe because I am of another suit*. Or of another planet. Who knows?
It was already dawning, and I was there, roaming in between the different environments of that party, until the moment I went up some stairs those lead to a bar where the sound of the music was way soft and the “climate” was more calm, and I went up amusing myself with a bird that was walking beside me. I was with my hands in my pocket and I took weird steps just like the bird that was walking and looking at me concerned if I was going to hurt it or not.
The same way regardless how good the friendship between a human and an animal, the animal is always limited. With humor and concerns limited at the level of an animal, therefore it doesn't matter how much a person says that a certain animal completes him or her and that animal is the love of his or her life, this person will always feel loneliness at the moment when he or she point to the Moon as a manner of sharing a welfare he or she is feeling, and his or her animal will do nothing beyond staring at his or her finger.
Therefore, that momentary friendship I had with that bird was not reciprocal. Because it was only me who was having fun by walking side by side mocking its steps and way of walking, and enjoying the illusion of us being similar, partners somehow. When in fact the bird was feeling fear about me being or not being a predator.
Evidently the bird there in the dream was a metaphor, and not a bird. Its function is to make me wonder about the subject(matter?) “friendships” in this life.
Arriving at the top of the stairs, I felt this huge tiredness of living that I feel and carry with me for many years. This sadness which was disguised with a brief smile from the walking with the bird. And there it was when I heard her voice. Voice which I appreciate to hear so much. She said “Wow! How “classy” thou ist!”. I don't even know if this term exists, but probably it was because I was well dressed to the party. Brand new clothes, clean clothes, expensive clothes. Despite they were black as usual, it was noticeable the quality of the fabrics. My long hairs sliding on my back and slightly flowing in the air by the breeze were with a shine and softness never seen before. Maybe all this impeccability of my appearance, this such “classy” that she referred, was a reflex of my soul. A reflex of a state of spirit. The such ideal that we all seek in our beings.
At hearing her, I looked forward, and I could see her sitting on a comfortable armchair of that bar, and at her side I saw my shadow cast, because the Sun had just rose and hit us horizontally by my back. She then stood up and came to me to greet me when I was about to walk up the last stair. This caused us the impression of both having the same height. Thus it made a well-fit hug.
When hugging her, instead of kissing her face, I kissed her neck. But it was more for not interrupting the hug than for malice. And there it was that she said something like “Don't to that or else I won't control myself!”. As she doesn't behave like this with me, actually this is some aspect of hers that I don't even know because we always have been friends only, what I deduced from that in that moment was that she might be drunk.
Then I loosed a little the hug in a way we could look each other in the eyes. And I could notice her with a distinctness that even scares me. Her face was the same of always, all the colors pointed out due to the morning Sun light hitting her directly from her front, and also due to the “over perception” we have when we are dreaming. It was the same beauty of always, the same beauty I am used to, the beauty that she erst told me she didn't like to have it, however I was admiring it in a new different way. Maybe because I were drunk. But not drunk from drinking as she was, but drunk from this feeling of sadness of mine and dissatisfaction for living in this world. The tiredness of this mission. The desire of going back home.
So I said her name and next I told her that she was beautiful. And in this meanwhile I remembered that she doesn't like to be beautiful, and when I repeated I said to her: “Forgive me but I think thou ist very beautiful!”. And in fact she is. And maybe the reason why I admire her so much is because as she doesn't like to be beautiful, she doesn't try to be beautiful. She doesn't fake any attribute as the overwhelming majority of other women do. This makes her owner of a genuine beauty. And as I am obsessed by the “path of truth”, I get even more attracted by beauties of this kind. Such a shame this is rare in this world.
It was in this moment for us being so close and she seems to be so comfortable with that, I decided to kiss her on her mouth. A gentle and soft kiss. There is no reason for me to get into the details also because it was brief. What it has of abnormal is that it doesn't match with the friendship we have.
Right after this we sat down on the armchairs which were almost one in front of the other. And I said I was very happy for her being there, and I explained that I used to frequent that place when I was a kid. And who would guess, there she was with me. In this moment was possible to see that small bridge way through the window behind her. And she wasn't looking at me, she was looking at the door behind me. And there it was that same sad look in her eyes again. She seemed to be looking at that door as she were waiting for someone.
By these “surrealities” of dreams, all of a sudden it seemed that I wasn't actually sitting there in front of her anymore, but actually as if I were receiving that view of her being sad at a bar waiting for someone who never shows up. And in this meanwhile I thought if it would be something wrong with her boyfriend. Some mismatch. Something that led her that way.
When I stopped paying attention in her so I could pay attention in me, I was on the other side of that bar, sitting at a table, and that now seemed to be happened on another day. Because the sky was different and she wasn't there anymore. An old music were playing in the television. Music from my teenager days. And in that moment I was understanding that music in another way.
So it passed me the impression that I was in that bar, in a future time and remembering of a past time when I was her there in that party.
Me, sitting at a table of a bar, with a glass of tea in front of me, watching the television which was near the ceiling, and thinking about her as the characters of that music video looked like coming out from the screen and that scene act was happening around me in a superimposed manner. And in the following moment I woke up crying.
I don't usually cry, I guess as the most men who grow in a culture that preaches that a man is supposed to be rigid, tough and never cries. But this is the second time I cried in this month. The previous time I haven't had time to write about it, but I will. Because I don't write actually to public, but to better understand myself. When we write, we put facts and thoughts in an order and speed which facilitates the comprehension. And all I want is to comprehend in a way that I can leave at last.
Perhaps I might be just sensitized because I hate Octobers. For me the end of the year starts in this month, and I don't feel well in these year endings, specially in new year celebrations. I don't know for sure. I also don't know why this lady in particular is so precious to me to the point of torturing me the idea of her being sad, bad or sick.
And yet she is not, it is just something I dreamed, I get bad. I feel awful. It is really a torture to me. I have nightmares too. Dreams with persecutions, with monsters, disgraces, etc... Mas one dream about her, yet beautiful visually speaking as the one of this last night was, if the context were of her being sad, when I wake up the dream reverberates bad in me throughout the day, as so a nightmare does.
I yet have to understand it all, to know what is the symbol that uses her image to communicate with me in my dreams.
Just in case, now I do my prayers to her. I pray for that what I believe to protect her from the evils of this world. I pray for her welfare, also because I get hurt indirectly whenever something bad happens to her.
.
Ace
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