The Open Matt Project

Dreams, Hope, and Ephemeral Walls

Last night brought some breathtaking dreams. I dreamt of beautiful girls. I mean girls who couldn't possibly exist. Like when you reach your peak of falling in love and you look at that person type of beauty. I dreamt of a kung-fu fight that was so surreal and placid that it was more like watching water flow around rocks in a slow running stream than anything else. It was like human origami. It was like slow sex. I dreamt of looking up at a open Montana sky and seeing it explode in washes of color and imagery so vast and awesome that I fell to the ground and closed my eyes and even the memory of the seconds I saw were so religiously powerful that I woke up crying ... with joy.

My time spent with people younger than me has given me a disturbingly useful sounding board against which I can gauge my own development. Sometimes I'm glad I'm not that young anymore. Other times I miss it. All in all it's good and I'm grudgingly learning to accept my grumpy habits and neurotic foibles while exposing myself to new things. Mogwai is a good band. Will and Grace is actually funny, sometimes.

Sometimes I wish I wasn't so aware of how tangible my limits are. On occasion I will yearn for epiphany and then realize that even stark realization of something won't give me the escape velocity I'll need to change it. Do these walls make me strong or do they make me trapped? I don't know.