(no subject)
What Dreams May Come - Excellent movie.
It pretty much parallels how I've felt for a long time about the human soul, death, and the afterlife. I can't say it wasn't hard for me to watch though.
I'm admitting right now officially for the first time [I think] that death scares the shit out of me. And far more than my own death is the death of those who I love, most of all my parents. Not that I don't love the other people in my life just as much, but I feel that I will have to face the reality of my parents dying first and foremost. I don't know why I choose to write this now but it's better if I do.
I have always had vivid dreams since I was a little girl. I attribute that in part to the fact that I've always felt to a certain degree detached from reality. No, not detached - I hold a much different grip on it than anyone I know, which in turn makes me want to mentally run and hide. A lot of times I've preferred being asleep to awake, consciously disconnecting from what I cannot control. The first dream I ever remember having was about my dad dying. I couldn't say why I made a mental note of that in my brain, other than the fact that I was very little and very very frightened. I don't believe I ever told anyone. It was a silly dream, my dad was in a whirlpool and he was drowning and bobbing up and down and nobody would help him and I don't know why I couldn't. The next morning as he took me to daycare on his way to work I couldn't stop crying [which was not unusual - about the time I was 4 or 5 I would scream and cry till I made myself sick not to be left there] and my dad was very annoyed, understandably. I don't know why I never told him about my dream.
It seems that from then on the slightest thought of my dad dying is enough to get me very, sometimes ridiculously, upset. As the years went by and I had other dreams of my parents dying [as I'm sure all kids do] I became very sensitive about my mom as well. Ever since I was a child I've wished I could live in other places far away from South Carolina, but the closer that reality gets the more frightening it is. I'm afraid to leave my parents because I'm afraid I'll never see them again. It's so hard for me to admit that. I never let fear hold me back from living life to the fullest but that doesn't mean it just goes away. I wish I was brave, and rational [or are they mutually exclusive?] I'd rather just avoid the thought altogether.
My mom comes up with all these crazy generic ideas about heaven and hell in black and white. I don't really know what my dad believes in. Maybe nothing. I believe that the soul is a unique bit of energy that is not really attached to a body, is no less without it, and can even reincarnate itself into other places. God or saints or gods or none at all, I think it's only getting right in your own mind that matters. Recognizing a natural order that is the alpha and omega, and letting yourself fall secondary to that. Logically then, rationally I should have nothing to be afraid of. But I'm often too human for logic.
It pretty much parallels how I've felt for a long time about the human soul, death, and the afterlife. I can't say it wasn't hard for me to watch though.
I'm admitting right now officially for the first time [I think] that death scares the shit out of me. And far more than my own death is the death of those who I love, most of all my parents. Not that I don't love the other people in my life just as much, but I feel that I will have to face the reality of my parents dying first and foremost. I don't know why I choose to write this now but it's better if I do.
I have always had vivid dreams since I was a little girl. I attribute that in part to the fact that I've always felt to a certain degree detached from reality. No, not detached - I hold a much different grip on it than anyone I know, which in turn makes me want to mentally run and hide. A lot of times I've preferred being asleep to awake, consciously disconnecting from what I cannot control. The first dream I ever remember having was about my dad dying. I couldn't say why I made a mental note of that in my brain, other than the fact that I was very little and very very frightened. I don't believe I ever told anyone. It was a silly dream, my dad was in a whirlpool and he was drowning and bobbing up and down and nobody would help him and I don't know why I couldn't. The next morning as he took me to daycare on his way to work I couldn't stop crying [which was not unusual - about the time I was 4 or 5 I would scream and cry till I made myself sick not to be left there] and my dad was very annoyed, understandably. I don't know why I never told him about my dream.
It seems that from then on the slightest thought of my dad dying is enough to get me very, sometimes ridiculously, upset. As the years went by and I had other dreams of my parents dying [as I'm sure all kids do] I became very sensitive about my mom as well. Ever since I was a child I've wished I could live in other places far away from South Carolina, but the closer that reality gets the more frightening it is. I'm afraid to leave my parents because I'm afraid I'll never see them again. It's so hard for me to admit that. I never let fear hold me back from living life to the fullest but that doesn't mean it just goes away. I wish I was brave, and rational [or are they mutually exclusive?] I'd rather just avoid the thought altogether.
My mom comes up with all these crazy generic ideas about heaven and hell in black and white. I don't really know what my dad believes in. Maybe nothing. I believe that the soul is a unique bit of energy that is not really attached to a body, is no less without it, and can even reincarnate itself into other places. God or saints or gods or none at all, I think it's only getting right in your own mind that matters. Recognizing a natural order that is the alpha and omega, and letting yourself fall secondary to that. Logically then, rationally I should have nothing to be afraid of. But I'm often too human for logic.