The Architecture of Dreams

I need to write again. To draw again. To create again. It's going to be hard to do, as I do not handle structured assignments well, get easily discouraged, and to be very blunt, there are moments where I do not give my words validation. Frankly, there are moments where I do not respect or even believe in my words. But given my recent period of disconnect, I know what I must do.

Of late, I have been having epic nightmares. For over a month now, they have been plaguing my sleep and my well being. I am not going to go into details of them. Not because they are too scary or that I offend someone. But because I don't want to play dream analysis. The number of books I have read on the subject were enough for me to never want to read another one. I have seen so many different interpretations of what a red car means that it boggles the mind. Anyone can write one of these. Just make a list of items, and guess their meaning. If you do this and publish it, you may not have a best seller on your hands, but you will have a book that will make you a comfortable dog biscuit and car wash budget out of dollar store customers for the rest of your life.

The events in my dreams are not truly fantastic. They are, for the most part, everyday events that you can clearly see in your own life. The difference in them, however, is that instead of being directed by action, they are directed by psyche. Your hopes and fears are what drives the scenes in my head. Not an action sequence or a plot. Perhaps this is why I struggle as a writer/filmmaker/musician. I am not getting the medium and the vision correctly lined up.

Incidentally, I have figured out what I truly am. Per a conversation with my friend, Michael Varrati, I have come to the conclusion that I am truly a performer. That moniker is not only easier to say, but it is very, very accurate. Growing up, I never had that "I wanna be a..." as part of my being. There was never that one and only thing that I was convinced I was going to become. Along the journey, I have done a lot of things, and explored a lot of arts. In my past, I have been a radio DJ (not in the club, with 50 Cent), actor, producer, assistant director, writer, illustrator, musician, singer, and lyricist. But truth be known, I have never dedicated myself to those with 100% of my being.

Why? I do not know. I'll explore that at a later time, as I have gone past my segue limit from the main topic. To wrap it up, my ability to embrace an medium and exert enough effort, passion and willpower to keep pace with my peers in those fields is pretty remarkable. I have recently come to the conclusion that if my life were to be compared to a radio system, my transmitter and my receiver are completely out of synch, and have been operating incorrectly for more years than I previously thought. I need to stop what I am doing, and give both sides a chance to find balance.

Therefore, let's look at dreams.

I do not have the ability to go into other peoples' minds, and I certainly don't want anyone in mine. So I am not sure if what I am going to say will be either redundant or mind-blowing. But in the world of my dreams, there is no fantastic imagery. The world of my dreams, my physical shell of the world where they take place, is taken from fragments of my life. The architecture remains intact, but not whole. An example of this would be that in a recent dream, I was living in a house that was part house, and part place of business. Upon further review, I dissected that I took one half of my friends house, one half of a garage my Dad worked at, and literally slammed them together.

Homes and business and places that can be normally found hundreds of miles away from the other can be found side by side. Short distances between previously established places can become marathon with the addition of endless fields and massive hills between them. And the Pittsburgh T runs all the way up to Alaska and Canada in my dreams. Again, in and of itself, it's not all that fantastic, but the architecture of my dreams does tend to lend itself to a bizarre pattern based more on psyche than on function.

That is where I think art truly is, in life. More on your emotions and your imagination than serving a particular functionality or service. I would rather write and perform music that reflects my true voice/feelings/experience than to write a poppy number that will sell a product on TV. Financially, it's a bad decision. From my own standpoint, it couldn't make any more sense to be true to one's self.

I am in the process of figuring all of this out. Of dissecting every single piece of my being, finding what works, and learning how everything works. And if it is something that does not work or can't possibly serve a good purpose, I will let it go. Not get rid of it, but rather let it go. There are certain things you can't get rid of in your life, for one reason of another. That is why we have junk drawers in our home. We use them to keep things that do not have purpose at the moment, but as need arises, we turn to the recently discarded and forgotten to bring sense to the present.

And in case you wondered, here is what I have in mine:

27 AAA batteries

A small black velvet bag containing parts for a digital recorder

Box of heavy duty staples

A street sweeping schedule for the City of Dormont

A big green bungee cord

A pair of walkie talkies

An old knife with an eagle's head handle, in an old, frayed leather case with the name Mike Kelm written on the back

2 mercury light bulbs

6 small metal shelf fasteners

A big white permanent marker

2 screen door window fasteners

A black gel pen

A blue gel pen

Small roll of duct tape

My old cell phone

Spare keys

A baggie containing pieces for playing backgammon

2 rubber stoppers

A spare nozzle for my kitchen sink

A staple remover that kind of looks like a cobra

12 small wood screws

1 nail

Twist ties

A small green plastic shot glass filled with thumbtacks

Again, there are the pieces that we have, and what we desire to create. I am now at a point in my life where I am questioning how to create again using the pieces I have already. Can I use the pieces I have to create what I dream for? Do I know how to use the pieces correctly? Where can I learn how to use them? Where can I find new pieces to add to the collection?

Our dreams are our true selves. Or are they a reflection? I don't really know anymore. For me, the bad dreams stem from my own fears, insecurities, and anxieties played out in front of me. And since they are very close to my waking life, they tend to affect me more than one would think. There are some definite themes that I can recognize, and will have to deal with in order to find peace. Nothing small, of course. Just the sort of fears that tend to make you not want to open your mouth about them.

Side note: as I typed that last  sentence, my legs started twitching like a dog getting its belly scratched.

Do I need to know everything? No. I just need to learn what works and what doesn't so that I don't waste any more time than is necessary in my life. I just turned 40, and don't let the critics tell you otherwise, but it does tend to change how you view yourself and the world around you. I don't think I am at  a point of mid-life crisis. I could be wrong on that, to be sure. But for me, I used to joke when I was younger that my mid-life crisis would involve my growing a mullet and becoming a country music singer. I don't know if it's that pronounced, or if it's in the subtle (and sometimes not so subtle) questioning of your existence.

It's time to start the process of building. This was a start. So much more to see and do, create and critique, explore and chart, find and keep, discover and educate. As I look towards the rising sun out of my window, I know that the journey has already begun.

5-12-2012