Cultivating an Illusion: The Aftermath

So yesterday, due to external circumstances, an illusion I've held crashed and burned. I am going through the depression of withdrawel. In trying to examine my motivation, it was as a result to a natural occurence that I chose to read much more into than was realistically possible. Call it an unsubstantiated hope, but it gave me a peace and a joy I would not otherwise have had. Note this was not a mishapen perception caused by my schizophrenia but an illusion clearly understood and freely cultivated. The difference may be subtle but it exists.

In looking back I wonder if I have not done myself somewhat of a disservice. For the vast majority of us, we seek what we can to fill in the empty spaces within. I believe this can be done in a healthy way, although given my circumstances I cannot so experientially say. I think the problem with substituting an illusion to fill that emptiness is that it supercedes the possibility of personal growth. Kind of like taking the easy way, where true value can only be obtained by the difficulties encountered in the journey.

So I have resolved not to willingly buy into illusions anymore.

I Had this Dream...

I don't remember to much in the way of specific detail. I was with some people, and a female member went over a hill. I followed her to make sure she was safe. Walked over the hill, through some woods and came to a clearing beside a stream. There were perhaps thirty or fourty people around the clearing, all of them busy with their hands. I don't know exactly what they were doing but it was my impression that they were all working both conjunctively and seamlessly. There was an extremely attractive yet ineffable vibration that permeated the group. It was as if they were of one mind, one purpose, each playing their part perfectly. Neither myself nor the woman I had followed knew how to connect to the work, and a representative of the group came and gently escorted us to the side where we could still see the work, but were not in the way.

In the next scene the same group had arisen and were dancing, nude, in a procession. Again there was a sense of perfection. A unity between the individuals and the whole. There was an indescribably beautiful music playing and once again I was struck by the vibration.

Finally one of the female dancers danced by me and seemed to offer her right breast. I moved to take it into my mouth, but she quickly withdrew. I looked up a little hurt that she was teasing me, but she just laughed and kissed me on the lips. That woke me up!

My waking impression of the dream centered on the vibration I had just experienced, and I spent much of that first day trying to attune myself with very limited success. I don't know whether there are literally groups that exist like that, or if it's an idealization whose reality is encompassed by being tuned to that level of vibration. I only know that I want to be tuned as they were. Finally, as nice as the ending was, I think its principal function was to wake me up, so I would remember that vibration.

Manufactured Meltdown

Welcome phantom readers to the Cous's Thursday Blog Off. Check out Melanie's exceptional entry here

Moving on then, he was having a problem. Well he was having a number of problems including one with personal pronouns. But for the sake of this exposition we're focusing on his deadline problem. Mostly. See, he has this deal to crosspublish some kind of writing with a friend. And hers, superb, is already rightie tightie in the can. Whereas he, lefty loosey, on the other hand, if that's not redundant, was as yet bereft of any ideas, yet alone a workable one. Extended sentence or no. He chewed his nails as vigorously as he did subconsciously, and more to the nub, to no avail.

Meltdown, meltdown. That was the agreed upon topic. An idea came to his head which proved, as was so often the case, utterly unusable. But panicked, he mentioned it anyway as if the project could somehow be stoked and satisfied with alliterative filler. See, there was a Vice-Presidential debate that night and one of the candidates, you won't say who, was rumored to be in over her head. Get it, over her head. Meltdown? But that would require a comic touch, something he hadn't exhibited since he'd partied like it was 1929. Which maybe it kind of is, but that's beside the point. Unless you're heavily invested. Meltdown? Anyway no reason to alienate no one and who knew how much of his phantom readership was Republican. Oops.

He couldn't think of anything else. And neither can I. The End.