a dream come true

how can i forget?

Simple really: i can't. It's impossible. i've tried. Perhaps the problem is i don't particularly want to forget, so much as i need to forget. So i stopped trying. And instead of forgetting, it seems that it's become like some fantastic dream i had once--something in the past that seems real, but can't possibly be. i lied to myself for too long, telling myself it was real, that it was true--a dream come true--which must explain why it's so hard to leave it behind. But dreams are like that, i suppose.

And what possessed me to think of dreams in such a way, of anything in such a way? ... in terms of Truth?

A dream come true ... i know as well as anyone that truth is only as strong as the perception of which it is borne. And as perception wavers, so does truth. Having said that, what is there to trust in then? to depend on? to hope for? If Truth is fickle, and if perception is inconsistent, then i fail to see how They can ask me to believe in anything. But They do, You all do.

Death is not the mystery.

God. i believe in God--though i'm not sure what that entails. God's scope is much larger than mine, i cannot see what He can see. i'm struggling, though, in my understanding--which, perhaps i'm not meant to have that luxury. 'It just is' is not acceptable, because there is an explanation--i just don't know it yet. Even if it so happens that i am not meant to find the answers to the mysteries of this Life, i cannot give up asking the questions. i will not give up asking my questions. Questions for God, questions for People, questions for the world.

i find it truly amazing--people, and i, can be so self-centered, so self-involved. It's killing me ... having to sit and watch, not allowed to say anything about anything ...

aggravation. and separation.

i can't forget ... how to speak, how to sing, how to survive. It all means too much to me now. All of You do--i'll not forget.

Close your eyes.

--

Saturday found me riding back from the Windy City--my dad and aunt in the front seats taking turns at the wheel, and i on the back bench seat with my two cousins, Morgan and Ryan--ages ten and six, respectively--one on either side. By the seventh hour of riding all five of us were ready to give up driving home altogether and buy a house in kentucky. Our legs were stiff, our stomachs were full after stopping for dinner, and there was just enough daylight to get in a little more reading and game playing. Tenth hour, i'd run out of stupid games to play in the car to keep the cousins occupied, and they started to fall asleep. Twelfth hour ... we hit the mountains. Around the curves the three of us on the bench seat were being tossed from side to side and the air pressure was killing my ears. Finally out of the mountains, Morgan ended up asleep in my lap, and Ryan was leaning on my arm. We didn't reach the house until around 5 am. And as cramped and exhausted as i was, watching them sleep--seeing them dream in perfect silence--was, without a doubt, the single most peaceful experience i've had in months.

...

i woke up at 4.30 this morning after only two and a half hours of sleep. Finally got up, walked around the house a bit, Spent some time thinking about sleep. Drank some orange juice, chilled online, and went back to bed for an hour. ... My, how nothing seems to change. At least something is consistent. i suppose i should be grateful.

CS said it, and i'll say it again ... different cities, different states, different countries ... it's all the same. Is it bad to find yourself wishing you could step out of the dorm to visit the dining hall?

Yes, i'm sure it is. Wishing for it is almost as bad as writing about it.

Why can't i sleep?