October 21, 2004

I woke up from a deep sleep, from which I recall a poignant dream whose details are fading as I enter more and more into the day. Maybe it is unecessary to remention the characters or setting, for nothing seems to change between waking and dreaming life, but I remember talking, listening about something that I was uninformed about. My friends Ai and Megumi were telling me about a possibility that I had never known, and this wonder of the uncanny, the unexpected brilliance of a new bend, a new feature of life, emptied my body of all of its volition when I woke. Immobile, listless, and content, I lay in the dark room with the curtains drawn shut and the curtains of my eyes barely drawn open--like an image so faint in the half light between night and day, the still and invisibly bright instant that sutures a dream into the rhythmic breathing of the dreamer's conscious life. I might say that we all have our Rip VanWinkle moments, that sometimes everyone discovers a new world when they wake up from a deep, seemingly endless sleep. That is not enough. Sometimes we stay dreaming, or we go on pretending that nothing has changed in the outside world. Usually our dreams give the feeling that we have been taken from here to an eternity of the imagination, only to wake up one minute later. Not knowing ever when I or where I will wake up, I wonder now as I do often about what I am doing to the world, and what it is doing to me. Lately I have felt an intense nostalgia for my university life--for students, professors, stories, poems, essays, etc.--and with it a great dread of what graduate life would be like--a dread which is like any other fear of trying to repeat an inimitable moment or scene of this drama that is always shifting, reorienting its characters in the bonds that they try to keep and often succeed in doing. Well, time to shut my eyes for a while in the hope of really opening them. So much to see in the world, if we ever look.

"The sky is too blue, the earth too wide.
The thought of her takes her away.
The form of her in something else
Is not enough."

Wallace Stevens


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