I know, dreams are the stuff of psychotherapy and, as such, are personifications ego states each of which are fleeting and not to be trusted. My dreams are of myself and myself alone. So why should they have any bearing...any resonance...with the others who dream?
Do I think dreams are prophetic? Of course not. Do it think they have any meaning beyond the boundraires of my self? Of course not.
Yet still I dream. And the dreams I dream, even only having import to myself, still are infected and immersed in possiblities that go beyond myself...that may have import into other minds. I am currently reading Bruce Hood's The Self Illusion: How the Social Brain Crates Identity. I am currently researching the possibility that our 'selves' our 'ego' is a product not of any interior processes that is centralized and locatable in our minds...but that our 'selves' our 'identitiy' is only a product of our relationships with others.
I'm struggling with the quote:
"I am not what I think I am and I am not what you think I am; I am what I think that you think I am."
Charles Horten Cooley
Who am I?
Do I have an existence beyond what others may respond, may define from statements, the assemblange of words in these postings?
I want to be a person, I want to have an identity.
But there is no evidence that I exist.
If I died this moment in time, then everything about me would cease to exist. That is reality. That is the only reality I know, the only reality I acknowledge.
How do I know that you...my my respodents exist?
You are all zombies.
I've known that for many years now. I know bits and pieces of you all. But what I know of you is far less than I would know of your average zombie. I have to remember that what I know of any of you is less than I would know of a zombie.
I was at a yard sale a few months back. There was one sale offering Zombie ammunition. The local survivalist shops offer weaponry to defend oneself against the coming Zombie Apocalpse.
Nothing joking here. 9mm shells with a green cap on a plastic bullet designed to explode in a zombie's skull and take his fucking head off. The man selling these zombie killing shells assured me they were the ammo of choice he loads his own weapons with.
29 percent of the people in the US believe that an internal revolution is not only inevitable but is desirable.
I am a citizen of West Virginia in the US. This is not a joke. This is real and this is happening. I am not a hot-head or an alarmist. This is the future I face in the next few years.
This is real, this is happening...
You can sit back in your ivory towers and make all your 'it's not that bad' comments you care to.
I look to be killed in the next decade for what I believe.
Do you wonder why I'm so pissed off at you people who would minimize the dangers...the actual, physical dangers...i am facing.
I will fight.
That's all I know how to do, that's all I am capable of doing.
The question is not 'should I kill' but is rather 'who should I kill?"
Who is the enemy?
I don't know.
Part of me wants nothing more than to join the Revolution and kill the agents of the US Government. And the other part of me wants to join the government and kill the radicals.
How can I chose one of the other? And on what basis should I make this choice?
I am angry, do not mistake that. I am an angry man. I want to kill my enemy. I just don't know which enemy I should kill; So I keep reading. I keep reading books hoping they will draw the bullseye for me I am finishing up Bruce Hood's The Self Illusion.
Nothing matters. I could shoot an automatic weapon into a crowd of strangers and kill as many of my enemies as I could my compardres.
I have sympathy for these people...dark and tragic sympathy...I know where they are, where their minds are.
How the intensity of the killing rage takes you past the rational and into an inferno.
The point where just killing is all that matters.
I hate myself. I fight against what I have become.
I am tired.
That is the ultimate, the thing that ends it all. I know that who I shoud kill, what I shout kill and why should I kill is all a jumble, a confusion, chaos...and that, in the end, after all the politics and jimmer-jammer, the only decision is the single one that pulls the trigger on the AK-47 or falls away, without the energy, without the power, without the cetainty, go close the gap and send the bullets hurling.
I am a foot-soldier. I am not one of the leaders, one of the controllers who send out to do thier dirty work. I am a soldier who sits behind the gun...or who sets the charge on the pressure cooker...or who flies the airplane into the Tower...I do what I am told.
I am the last chance reality has. The final link in the chain. I am the one who has to be the trigger, the real trigger...the trigger that lead to the death of hundreds...or thousands...
...I am a foot-soldier. I am the one you tell me what to do and I am the one who carries out your decisions.
I have dreamed of zombies since I was a child. In a way, they do not bother me anymore. The masses, the unschooled and unwashed masses. It's always the same. Doesn't matter what cause they represent. It's just that they keep coming.
I apologize for the rambling violence of this post. I do not mean to espouse violence in any way. In a manner of speaking, this is the frustration I feel for not being able to target a single enemy.
How do you fight a war when the enemy is in your own mind?
"How do you fight a war when the enemy is your own mind?" That's a great quote! I'm sure that's how mentally-ill people feel. I know I do, being diagnosed with an anxiety-disorder that causes me to over-think things and assume the worst. I know a lot of my war is in my own mind. It's hard to turn that off.
I hate dreaming. I also hate when other people tell me their dreams, lol. I didn't mean your post, I just mean "in real life" when people start off a conversation about the dream they had last night. It's a pet-peeve of mine.
I like hearing about other people's dreams. It is one of the few times you get a glimpse of another person without all of the filters that are normally in place. I admit that there is still a filter involved in the telling. I may just like them because I can only remember five or six dreams during a year when I wake up.
Yes, I have had a few dreams that were drenched in meaning like a good poem. Those dreams I sometimes tell people.