On dreams, atheism, and insanity, and my beef with earth hour.
A few nights ago, I dreampt. I dreampt I was in my apartment. Chris was on the computer as usual and I was walking down the hall from the bedroom to the living room and there were people standing in the door, the front apartment door. They were dressed in white and were holding up papers as though they were some kind of secret password that let them come to my apartment. Chris turned to me and looked very sad and I realized that these people were, for lack of a better phrase, “coming to take me away”.
I didn’t know what I’d done so I began to argue. I screamed and shouted and said that this was stupid; there was nothing I had done or said that would constitute my forcible removal from my home. I turned to Chris and asked, “You agree with them?” He didn’t say anything but gave me that look like, “What do you want me to do?”
I conceded. I said, “If I go with you willingly, can I at least take my purse?” The man in the door shrugged. I grabbed my bag and looked bag to Chris and began shouting again about how can this be right and what have I done and I went up to the man in the door (there was a woman, too, but the whole time she’s passive) and I read what was written on the paper and I saw that somehow this was because my father wanted it? Which is doubly ridiculous because my father and I think almost the same way and he doesn’t believe in psychiatric medicine anyway (well, he doesn’t mostly, he thinks everyone with “problems” just needs to suck it up). But I realized there was nothing I could do and I wasn’t going to get any help from anyone else so I left with them, clutching my purse, and I walked down my apartment steps, which are different in the dream. They’re longer and skinner and they don’t turn in flights but are just one long staircase.
The next thing I know I was in a van, like a police-style paddy wagon, but I’m sitting in the front, next to the man, not in the back, like I expected. It was a beautiful day, just a little bit chilly but the sun was bright and I had a comfy white sweater on (I think it might have actually been white and pink and I used to have a sweater just like it but I have no idea what happened to it). I stare out the window, looking indignant, looking at my reflection in the side-view mirror, and I asked, “What the fuck am I doing here.” The man looked at me, but didn’t say anything.
“This whole thing is bogus, and don’t think I don’t know it,” I said. “This is some kind of a test or something, this is shit. What do I know - what did I do - that you people have got a problem with?”
Then I was walking up this grass-covered hill, more like an incline, with the man beside me. It was a little muddy, and I clung to the thighs of my pants trying to keep them out of the mud. It was windy and sunny and there were old trees hanging overhead with no leaves on their branches yet, so I guess it was early spring. Out of nowhere I said, “I don’t believe in God, you know.”
The man looked at me. He was interested.
“I mean, look at this,” I pointed to a bare spot of mud amidst the grass. In it is a pattern of weird thin lines, beautiful and complex and strange. “That was made by worms. Fucking worms, stupid worms. I mean, you can say that ‘God told them to do that’ because it’s beautiful, but if complexity necessitates a complex creator, wouldn’t he then too need his own creator? When does it stop?” I sat down beside the mud. The man sat down across from me, leaning up against a chicken wire fence. At the top of the hill, there was a big, white house.
“That’s all I needed,” the man said. He got up and started to walk away.
“Wait,” I said, “How do I get home?”
He said, “You already are.”
I looked up at the sky. It was bright white. I woke up.
~*~
That dream was weird, obviously, but it was weird for a lot of reasons besides the obvious. I’ve never dreampt about my apartment before. I know, that sounds totally strange, but I haven’t. I’ve never dreampt in such weird, true-to-life colours before, but even still, it seemed like there was some kind of weird filter. I’ve never dreampt about God before, and I’ve never had a dream that was so consistent, like, here is where you are, here is where you’re going, and that’s where you ended up. And lastly, I DO believe in God. Well, Gods. Something. I don’t believe that it/he/she/we/them even care about this planet or even that they could care if they were given the choice. I just believe that there’s something out there that we as humans aren’t capable of understanding, and a lot of people would call that ‘god’.
I dunno. It just stuck with me and I thought I would share.
Last night I dreamed about a Mr. Sidney Crosby, and that was almost as good. Mmmm-hmmmm.
On a completely different note, Earth Hour and why I think it’s stupid.
For those who don’t know, Earth Hour is when (was when, I suppose, it was yesterday, but I hear they want to do it like once a month or once a season or something) we’re all supposed to turn off our lights and not use any electricity (I mean, I guess aside from your fridge and alarm clocks and stuff) from 8:30PM to 9:30PM in your local time Which sounds like a great idea and is probably effective, but there’s the problem that I live in a 600 square foot apartment with a cat and nothing real. I mean, what I’m saying is that I don’t own a real piano; it’s a keyboard, it runs on electricity. I don’t own any candles because my cat would knock them over and burn my apartment down. And I don’t own a book light because I refuse to own a snuggie. So what am I supposed to do, sit around in the dark for an hour talking about how awesome the earth is? I mean, it is, but seriously. And I know, everyone’s going to say, “But we’ve only got one earth!” Trust me. I know. But why couldn’t we do earth hour around twilight or something? When it’s still light enough to read and do non-electrical things but people turn on their lights habitually anyway? Wouldn’t that make more sense?
But what’s more than that, I try and stay off the grid as much as possible anyway. During daylight hours, I don’t turn the light switch on which also means that both my hard drives are off and my computer runs on battery. I only turn my keyboard on when I intend to play it and I only turn the TV on if I’m actually watching something. I typically listen to music on my iPod which has an almost suspiciously long battery life. I guess I feel the same way about Earth Hour as I do holidays: I try to be good every day of the year and I’m not so wracked with guilt that I have to set aside extra days out of the year to totally fuck up my schedule and make my miserable because I don’t think I’m doing good enough.
That is all.
I didn’t know what I’d done so I began to argue. I screamed and shouted and said that this was stupid; there was nothing I had done or said that would constitute my forcible removal from my home. I turned to Chris and asked, “You agree with them?” He didn’t say anything but gave me that look like, “What do you want me to do?”
I conceded. I said, “If I go with you willingly, can I at least take my purse?” The man in the door shrugged. I grabbed my bag and looked bag to Chris and began shouting again about how can this be right and what have I done and I went up to the man in the door (there was a woman, too, but the whole time she’s passive) and I read what was written on the paper and I saw that somehow this was because my father wanted it? Which is doubly ridiculous because my father and I think almost the same way and he doesn’t believe in psychiatric medicine anyway (well, he doesn’t mostly, he thinks everyone with “problems” just needs to suck it up). But I realized there was nothing I could do and I wasn’t going to get any help from anyone else so I left with them, clutching my purse, and I walked down my apartment steps, which are different in the dream. They’re longer and skinner and they don’t turn in flights but are just one long staircase.
The next thing I know I was in a van, like a police-style paddy wagon, but I’m sitting in the front, next to the man, not in the back, like I expected. It was a beautiful day, just a little bit chilly but the sun was bright and I had a comfy white sweater on (I think it might have actually been white and pink and I used to have a sweater just like it but I have no idea what happened to it). I stare out the window, looking indignant, looking at my reflection in the side-view mirror, and I asked, “What the fuck am I doing here.” The man looked at me, but didn’t say anything.
“This whole thing is bogus, and don’t think I don’t know it,” I said. “This is some kind of a test or something, this is shit. What do I know - what did I do - that you people have got a problem with?”
Then I was walking up this grass-covered hill, more like an incline, with the man beside me. It was a little muddy, and I clung to the thighs of my pants trying to keep them out of the mud. It was windy and sunny and there were old trees hanging overhead with no leaves on their branches yet, so I guess it was early spring. Out of nowhere I said, “I don’t believe in God, you know.”
The man looked at me. He was interested.
“I mean, look at this,” I pointed to a bare spot of mud amidst the grass. In it is a pattern of weird thin lines, beautiful and complex and strange. “That was made by worms. Fucking worms, stupid worms. I mean, you can say that ‘God told them to do that’ because it’s beautiful, but if complexity necessitates a complex creator, wouldn’t he then too need his own creator? When does it stop?” I sat down beside the mud. The man sat down across from me, leaning up against a chicken wire fence. At the top of the hill, there was a big, white house.
“That’s all I needed,” the man said. He got up and started to walk away.
“Wait,” I said, “How do I get home?”
He said, “You already are.”
I looked up at the sky. It was bright white. I woke up.
~*~
That dream was weird, obviously, but it was weird for a lot of reasons besides the obvious. I’ve never dreampt about my apartment before. I know, that sounds totally strange, but I haven’t. I’ve never dreampt in such weird, true-to-life colours before, but even still, it seemed like there was some kind of weird filter. I’ve never dreampt about God before, and I’ve never had a dream that was so consistent, like, here is where you are, here is where you’re going, and that’s where you ended up. And lastly, I DO believe in God. Well, Gods. Something. I don’t believe that it/he/she/we/them even care about this planet or even that they could care if they were given the choice. I just believe that there’s something out there that we as humans aren’t capable of understanding, and a lot of people would call that ‘god’.
I dunno. It just stuck with me and I thought I would share.
Last night I dreamed about a Mr. Sidney Crosby, and that was almost as good. Mmmm-hmmmm.
On a completely different note, Earth Hour and why I think it’s stupid.
For those who don’t know, Earth Hour is when (was when, I suppose, it was yesterday, but I hear they want to do it like once a month or once a season or something) we’re all supposed to turn off our lights and not use any electricity (I mean, I guess aside from your fridge and alarm clocks and stuff) from 8:30PM to 9:30PM in your local time Which sounds like a great idea and is probably effective, but there’s the problem that I live in a 600 square foot apartment with a cat and nothing real. I mean, what I’m saying is that I don’t own a real piano; it’s a keyboard, it runs on electricity. I don’t own any candles because my cat would knock them over and burn my apartment down. And I don’t own a book light because I refuse to own a snuggie. So what am I supposed to do, sit around in the dark for an hour talking about how awesome the earth is? I mean, it is, but seriously. And I know, everyone’s going to say, “But we’ve only got one earth!” Trust me. I know. But why couldn’t we do earth hour around twilight or something? When it’s still light enough to read and do non-electrical things but people turn on their lights habitually anyway? Wouldn’t that make more sense?
But what’s more than that, I try and stay off the grid as much as possible anyway. During daylight hours, I don’t turn the light switch on which also means that both my hard drives are off and my computer runs on battery. I only turn my keyboard on when I intend to play it and I only turn the TV on if I’m actually watching something. I typically listen to music on my iPod which has an almost suspiciously long battery life. I guess I feel the same way about Earth Hour as I do holidays: I try to be good every day of the year and I’m not so wracked with guilt that I have to set aside extra days out of the year to totally fuck up my schedule and make my miserable because I don’t think I’m doing good enough.
That is all.