After a night of despair, I was listening to a love song this morning when I suddenly realized something rather ironic considering how I felt very empty last night:
In the course of my life I had a recurring dream starting when I was a kid, probably starting concurrently with my first memories from life:
"I am descending from the cold white marble stairs in the house where I lived when I was 2 till 6 -the very first place I remember- when I suddenly jump from the middle stairs, I lose control, and I start to fly. I go out of the big wooden front door and begin to climb. Higher and higher until the big city (Athens) becomes very small in my eyes. All seems like models or toys now and I continue to go above the clouds when I realize I no longer have my own body; I am a phoenix now with a beautiful long tail of feathers, all while I felt completely emotionally detached from the events happening, feeling free (probably except when I lost control where I felt scared)."
Now, what happened this morning was that I realized that I am flying. Compared to people there usually are, I feel like I am flying where they walk on the ground. Despite moments of sadness and despair and the moments of happiness and joy, despite fears and excitements, despite laughter and tears, I guess I am living the dream of man, probably where all people desire to be deep within their hearts. The miracle has happened for me, however this life may go on. I have felt the genuine experience of man, the original feeling of life.
Now, do I feel proud or happy? No. I just feel full, meaningful. I feel the eternal wonder of man. I feel like "the wanderer in the rain" I -somehow miraculously- have come to be.
1 comment:
Welcome buddy!
;-)
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