It’s two a.m, and I just finished watching one of my favourite movies, The Road by John Hillcoat. As if my existential crisis wasn’t already enough itself. I roll a cigarette and play the movie’s soundtrack, still slightly sobbing. Because, as if everything that’s wrong with the human body didn’t suffice, we need to have emotions too. I have so many thoughts about this damn movie, but I keep telling myself that I don’t have the luxury to be bothered by them, so that I don’t miss my extremely precious sleep and look like a character from the Walking Dead the next morning. I have so much to do, I whisper to myself. This craziness is starting to get to me, I’m almost certain of it lately.
But I’m becoming so weary of never being able to let go anymore. Sometimes it literally feels as if I have a tight rope around my neck, or that I lack the air I need. As if my lungs are filled with black liquid.
Alright, maybe it’s smoking’s fault on this one.
But I think that the worst thing for an artist is to not let their thoughts flow. I need my inspiration after all, and even though I’m flooded by it, I never get the time to put it down on paper anymore. And never in my life have I felt my creativity fading away this much.
I have so much to talk and write about.
And now that I’m staring through my window as Nick Cave’s music plays slowly on the background, only to see a fully black sky with one lone star in the midst of it all, and I really can’t tell which way my thoughts are travelling. It seems like I’m slowly walking into Dreamland, as I like to call it, after a very long time.
Dreamland used to be my favourite imaginary place in the world when I was a kid. I used to go there all the time. It was the land where adventure and creativity were all over the place. And I would travel there in my sleep, mostly, not only to unwind, but to let myself loose from all the tension. You see, I was never one of these people who went for a run at the beach to do such thing. And no matter how crazy it might sound, that’s where I used to get most of my inspiration from.
So here I am, once again, feeling lost in the world , but taking a deep breath and letting go. I am deeply, inexcusably tired of having obstacles in my dreams. I need to start putting them in action.
And now I am surrounded by trees in every shade of purple, and a blue grass while staring a sky similar to Van Gogh’s Starry Night. And for this moment, I am free.
So I think about every little thing that occupies my mind while having conversations with friends, without having to keep myself from blurring out. I let my head unravel, and I don’t care about tomorrow, at least temporarily. I think of the meaning of life, and come face to face with the natural catastrophes that I’m wondering about, which will bring the world to an end. And simultaneously I remind myself that we are all here very briefly anyways, so today and how you spend it is what counts the most. And holy hell, I have spent many todays as alive as it can be.
I leave the field and go to the one and only bus stop on Dreamland. I pick a daffodil up from the ground, and in the blink of an eye, the bus without wheels has stopped right in front of me. Destination; Unknown. The bus is rusted, but I hope it won’t decay, so I take a seat and blow my daffodil away. There is hope in every universe after all. Unless there’s a parallel universe where hope does not exist. Unlikely, but possible.
So as I travel in silence, and the bus makes some rough sounds before it slowly rises into the sky, moving through space, I observe all the colours and finally, let go. And while floating in my thoughts, I have a last reflection;
Our existence is both the most meaningful and pointless thing our world has ever known. Our life span is counted by the blink of an eye, and how we choose to spend it seems to have absolutely no point, because it will not only be forgotten, but in the end, won’t matter.
But I refuse to live pointlessly. I won’t be separated from the sun and the sea. I refuse to not feel, and even when I lose my way, I will always head to new beginnings and meaningful adventures. I am a slave of this universe, after all. In this nano second I get to spend on Earth, if any of it is real and not an illusion from breathing oxygen, I will only be dancing in every rhythm I know. And I know, I know that it’s so much better to feel the pain of the unbearable weight we carry on my back, than nothing at all. Because that is the pain of being alive. And I am so glad to be alive right now.
As Dreamland slowly fades away from my sight, I throw myself and my half-lit cigarette from the bus window, and fall back into place. Maybe I’ll come back soon, when I need an escape again.
I knew from the very begining that the getaway shouldn’t last too long.
But the dreams will last forever.