I think it’s safe to say this one is an exception.
I had a dream last night, thankfully a fun one. Often after waking up from such a dream I question the difference between reality and dreams. If I can smell and touch and run and feel, how different is it to being there in real life? I guess the only difference is we wake up and say ‘yeah, that wasn’t real’. But what if the day comes in which we wake from this one? It really isn’t much crazier to think.
In this dream I was at a festival called Lolapalooza, which is a real festival. So far my dream has fact checked with reality, a great start. It was set on a beach, the crowd pinned between the stage barriers and the crashing waves in warm temperatures. In the sea, a very long wooden float consisting of multiple floats to reach far out into the depths. On the horizon to the right (turning your head to 2 o’clock) a skyline of huge skyscrapers. To help with the scene, whilst I have my morning coffee I have created an incredibly realistic and in depth artists impression.
So there I was, watching the Foo Fighters (a band I have always wanted to see) at a place I cannot even remember buying tickets for. Or flying to. Or how the hell I afforded it. Not that I care when Dave Grohl was in front of me, I was in awe. Suddenly, he ran through the crowds and straight onto the float (a logistical nightmare come to think of it) and right to the very end of it being the rock star that he is.
There are a few reasons as to why I believe I had this dream. One, I watched the Foo Fighters on YouTube last night performing, rather bizarrely, ‘Never gonna give you up’ with Rick Astley on vocals. Once again, how can I be expected to believe this life is real with these kind of mash ups happening?
Secondly, whilst looking through photos yesterday to add to my blog, I found a picture from a Cage the Elephant gig I attended a couple years back. The photo isn’t great so I won’t upload it. However I also watched them perform live on YouTube earlier this month, the gig was at Lollapalooza Chicago. Maybe that was the skyline I was looking at, as Chicago does have a great one. This is the shot that I am thinking about. I remember trying really hard to get Dave in the shot whilst he was walking out over the sea with the skyscrapers in the background, a little similar to this one.
Maybe I have a desire to see the Foo Fighters in Chicago, I certainly wouldn’t turn that offer down.
I find it incredibly fascinating that our dreams are mysterious and always alternating. They are begging for a little detective work to be done when we first open our eyes and realise we weren’t actually there at the time. It is crazy that I don’t know my own dreams, and that I have to figure out what was meant in the dream used by the same brain used to type this post. Am I sharing this headspace? It seems so considering how little I know myself at times.
The thing with dreams is, unless it is a lucid dream (a whole other world) it is only after waking that we know we were asleep. When we are awake we can look back and analyse. We can stop in our tracks and consider reality and question everything around us… If we really want to in this limited time we have to do so.
Too many people don’t. I know that there are things I don’t question because I don’t know they are there to question. I know there are things that I don’t know that I don’t know. When I look around, there are plenty of people that seem to not question life at all. That are born, go to school, then university, then get a career, then marry and have kids, pay bills and worship every Sunday until one Sunday doesn’t come. Of course there is beauty in such a life, as long as that life wasn’t carried out because it was seen as a life we are expected to live, a huge checklist that we have to tick off to be considered ‘normal’ and accepted. Sometimes I start getting deep into a topic and get strange looks. As if the universe and the infinite capabilities with it are odd things to think about. Do you ever get the strange look or eye rolling when you bring up something you are passionate about, such as the afterlife or the nature of dreams, as if reality TV is the only thing you could mention that would pass as acceptable conversation? I have, and when I receive strange looks I imagine that I am talking about the real world to a North Korean. Receiving a confused look doesn’t mean your question was a bad one, but that you are expecting an answer from someone that didn’t realise there was even such a question in the first place.
If you do feel weird for having a passion for something outside of supposed ‘normality’ keep feeling weird, for nature is weird and the moment we stop thinking nature is weird, we have stopped looking.
What is desired more than quality? Trends. The need to be like everyone else instead of what’s suits us best. After all if trends change, they couldn’t have been that special anyway.
The easiest thing to do is fit in. Simply look at what is popular and buy it. Listen to what we are told is cool by apparant experts and give them our hard earned money.
I have just walked by this burger van near the Greys Monument in the city centre. It may in fact be the best burger I will ever have. But what I have learned is that for a queue to be this long, quality isn’t always in the recipe. It could be average, the thrill of being in the cool crowd overcompensating for mediocrity.
It is astounding how much money goes towards ‘keeping up to date’, another term for blending in with society. Why spend so much money on wanting to be unrecognisable? Another brick in the wall, another drop in the ocean living life with an aim to be accepted instead of glorifying personal strengths and interests.
Life is too short for that. The effort put into adhering to societal norms could be spent changing them for the better.
Once again, this burger van may not be a culprit, it was just the inspiration for my post. If the queue goes down, I may give it a try.
I’m looking after him for the weekend with my flatmate. What a cute puppy!
I love how our Sun is 93 million miles away, but a few clouds are the difference between wearing my ski jacket and taking it off in a sweat. I’ve asked Diesel, he doesn’t have the answer.
I find some people are unwilling to accept help or advice if it exposes a personal flaw. People are very reluctant to receive constructive criticism, rightly so if it is done in a condescending fashion.
I personally love my own flaws being exposed. That one moment and acknowledgement of imperfection helps me to become that little bit closer to perfection in whatever it was I was doing at the time.
Question. If you are reading a post, Facebook status or watching someone create an email in which they type ‘your’ instead of ‘you’re’ and you are with the author, would you tell them? I don’t think it is a bad thing to do so. If it is considerate and good willed, I don’t see the problem. The problem is so many people would rather shun the correction and try to preserve pride, although that pride is an illusion as people pretend there wasn’t a mistake in the first place.
I have just read a post by a very ambitious, highly driven person right before this post and thought I’d ask. There is no quicker way to success than getting help along the way. Accepting it costs nothing, but may be invaluable.
I see there is a big trend online for people to either pretend they are more stupid than they are, or boast about it.
Why boast about being stupid or clumsy? I’m all for admitting flaws and that I am not the perfect person, it just seems a waste of valuable time to make sure the Internet knows my weaknesses instead of strengths. They don’t even have to be strengths, just something a little more optimistic and moral boosting.
It’s hard enough for us mortals to be heard and find a job that utilities our strengths, I am trying more than ever to use such opportunities as a boost and not a put-me-down.
It’s 8.01am, what a time to be awake. On Sunday everyone else couldn’t be more asleep, the streets are quiet, there is this sense of calm that was not the case a few hours ago on Saturday evening. It’s like Christmas Day every week.