THE CONSCIOUSNESS OF MATTHEW
Part I: This Solid World
Can I tell you
a secret?
I'm confessing more for me than for you.
I need words to make
light out of the
shadows of my
thoughts.
Okay? Okay.
Sometimes,
when my eyes collapse with longing for sleep,
my esoteric eyes awaken unexpectedly,
to a subtle world
just behind this one.
You may never notice you were in
that world
until you come back to
this one.
In that place,
everything feels lighter than snowflakes.
Especially me.
I effortlessly
phase through walls
I joyfully
fly like a phantasmic bird
and stumble upon
red ravines in the sky.
An ethereal piercing noise,
carries me across
possible destinies
and returns me to reality.
The translucent body I just had,
will give way to the familiar one,
with all its throbbings and pulsations
and, well,
the things that flesh is heir to.
It has to be symbolic.
To elucidate it would be
a revelation.
Please,
don't tell me it's only
confusing.
it's got to mean
something.
Every time I come back,
I wish:
I could stay in that world
forever.
*****
My eyes gently wake up. My mind is a little groggy from sleep and dreams. I enjoy the soothing softness of my bed for a few seconds before I take my dream journal from underneath my pillow and begin to write about what I was up to whilst dreaming. I write about flying through my bedroom walls, I write about the red ravine that I saw floating in the sky. Most of all I describe the enigmatic sound I heard that carried me into places I could be in the future. There was one where I was in a university class room, though which university the vision did not care to reveal. I was attending a class where we were discussing a thick book and was eager to discuss it with my classmates and professors. There was another possible destiny where I decided to take a year off instead of going to university and was at some hotel in a European country, though again the vision left out the concrete details. I wonder if it is perhaps because I am meant to fill in those details myself.
I think about the differences between the world I have just emerged from and the world I’m presently in. The ostensibly “Real” world I’m in right now is orderly. Things are limited by physical laws like gravity. One place always leads to another and you can re-trace your steps knowing you live in a rational environment. But the “Dream” world is not like that. You could be flying towards a floating red ravine one moment and then be discovering two different outcomes of the future in the next for no apparent reason. It’s more chaotic.
But the biggest difference is just that they feel different to my consciousness. This world is solid, but that world is subtle. What I just said barely even makes sense to myself, but it is the best I can do.
I sit there, meditating upon how to describe the indescribable, when I hear my mother cry “Matt!” from the kitchen. It interrupts my thought-stream and snaps me out of my speculative daze. I tried to bring the thoughts I was having to some kind of conclusion as I hastily got dressed to get ready for another day of high school, but I was unable to. I am frustrated that my mom had to remind me that I am obligated to leave my bedroom.
As I walk downstairs to go from my bedroom to the kitchen my nose is delighted by the smell of eggs and toast, and my ears excited by the sound of the tea kettle boiling. My stomach grumbles.
My mother, my father & I all eat breakfast. I pause when I’m done eating to appreciate how content my belly feels, and to reflect on how soon I will have to start making my own meals. Next year I’ll either be in university or I’ll be gone to some foreign country on a gap year - not sure which. This thought fills me with anxiety. How can I possibly look after myself? I have never cooked my own meal in my entire life. My mom and dad never even taught me how!
“What’s on your mind, boy?” Dad asks.
“Just spacing out”, his 18-year old son responds. Sometimes I do not wish to make light of the shadows of my thoughts. No wonder. If I brought up that they never taught me how to cook we would start to fight, if I brought up that I’ve been having amazing dreams they would tell me I should stop sleeping all the time, if I told them that I was nervous about the future they would tell me I have nothing to worry about when I obviously do.
I have to go to school from 9am-3pm, and then work at the movie theatres from 5:00pm-…to whenever I get off work. Then my previous peaceful thoughts are swept away by the realization that I have a terribly busy day ahead of me. The hardship of this solid world I’m presently experiencing makes me frustrated. I wish I could just be flying through walls without a care in the world all the time!
The three of us rush into the car. We had some standard chit-chat to fill the silences. Stuff like, “What do you have for school today?” “What are you doing after school?” “We’ll be running errands and will have the car, so you’ll have to walk home from work, okay boy?”
I looked out the window and saw the dull grey sidewalks, grey streets, and grey buildings that cover my entire world. The sky was completely grey today too, without a single ray of sunlight peaking through. It all looked so boring and unappealing. I let out a sigh, wishing to return to that subtle world I had emerged from this morning and it’s infinite novelty.
I went to school. I saw the cheery Emily Thompson, one of those girls who had a beautiful soul to match her beautiful body. She was hanging out with a crowd of lively and loud life-lovers. We walked past each other, said “Hello”.
I saw the sophisticated Linden McNeil, one of those guys who was lucky enough to not only know exactly what he wants to do out of high school (Engineering), but also happened to take delight in the things that would help get him there. He carried a book bag that seemed to put a lot of stress on his shoulders. He was with a crowd of other austere number-crunchers. We walked past each other, and said “Hello”.
I saw the libertine Ryan MacPherson, wearing a leather jacket, his eyes glazed with the after-effects of marijuana… and maybe something else? He seemed to be walking in the opposite direction as everyone else so as to walk out the door, probably so he can skip class to smoke a joint. He was walking out with a crowd of fellow thrill-seekers. We walked past each other, and said “Hello”.
I saw them and a host of other acquaintances, who had become the only type of people I knew. I used to be plugged in to circles of friends and best friends but had slowly detached myself from all that to busy myself with the dream world. At first it was just that I wanted to sleep more to continue having exciting vivid dreams in lieu of hanging out with people, then in my waking hours all I wanted to do was think about the dreams that I had - trying to analyze them, or figure them out. Slowly but surely I had drifted apart from everyone else. I still dearly loved these people and many others, but they had become different people now. So had I. They still played a role in my inner life somehow because they had all effected me in different ways, but they only played a small role in my outer life or none at all.
I didn’t pay attention in any of my classes. I spent my whole time daydreaming. Sometimes about the adventures I’ve had in the subtle world, sometimes having imaginary conversations with friends in my head, and often about nothing at all. My grades were slipping and my parents were becoming frustrated about that, but so what? In English we are assigned a paper on Hamlet, my favourite play.
Then finally my steady stream of daydreaming was interrupted by the sound of the lunch bell ringing…..
*****
I let out a sorrowful sigh.
Do I miss the freedom of being a kid?
Am I regretting something that I did?
Am I just sore from too much work?
Why does my heart full of murk?
….??
The lunch bell rings.
Everybody unites with their people.
But who do I go to?
Do I go to the spirited youth?
The libertine partiers?
The austere studiers?
I know who my acquaintances are
(Do I ever have a lot of those)
but where are my friends? My people?
Who do I go to?
No one,
there is no one for me.
I reach out for nobody,
for nothing.
I don’t have the blessing of life-long friends,
loves that have been nourished for a lifetime.
But it’s okay. It gives me more time to reflect, right?
They go out there and create memories,
they connect, hug and smile.
They’re so absorbed in the moment,
so captured by emotion that they don’t
have time to reflect on life - they’re just..
living.
They’re out there… and I’m in here…
I’m in here and I create fantasies,
I’m isolated, detached and poignantly sad…
so absorbed in introspection that I don’t
have time to live my life - I’m just..
decaying?
When I look at me,
I look at my enemy.
When I’ve been struck by Ignorance’s blows,
remind me I alone am the cause of my woes.
That is my privilege and my pain.
Whenever I am under the throes of guilt,
remind me I alone can undo what I’ve built.
I refuse to dwell in sorrow,
I’ll create my fulfilling tomorrow.
Somewhere, there must be people out there for me.
*****
That’s the poem I wrote at lunch time, sitting in a corner that no one goes to. It’s where I knew I could be safe from anyone who would would ask me what I was doing.
The last five sentences I added as an afterthought. I don't like to end my writing on a sad note, just in case I ever want to share them with someone. But the thought of sharing this particular poem with others fills me with embarrassment.
Writing that poem was enough to fill the entire lunch hour. I go to my next classes but am even less focused on these ones. My loneliness dawns on me. I wonder if I really could re-connect with those beloved people that I used to know, or if I am just doomed to drown in my own self-pity.
The end-of-the-day bell rings, which is the signal for dozens upon untold dozens of high-schoolers to unite with their friends and begin pursuing fun for the day. I find myself in a similar scene to where I was at lunch time. I’m alone, awkwardly trying to drift towards a crowd of people who I can feel comfortable with but being unable to. I hear talk of video games and anime and sports, none of the things I would want to talk about myself. I only want to talk about the dreams I’ve been having, and there is no one who can relate to that. I don’t want anyone to see me in this pathetic and pitiful state so I hide myself, making me even more alone.
I walk home as a little bit of rain begins to fall down from the grey sky above.
When I get home I wonder what I will do with the hour and a half I have before I have to start walking to work. I feel myself drawn to my laptop but spending that much time in an internet-induced stupor disgusts me, so I try to think of an alternative. I could start to read something from that stack of unread books. Then Reason kicks in and says that I should be doing homework, since it is unlikely I’ll have the energy or the interest to do it after work. I decide to listen to Reason.
I sit down on the couch and begin to try writing this English essay on Hamlet but my attention struggles to stay on task. I am too distracted by my ever-increasing longing to return to that subtle dream world. I begin to feel a terrible disgust for this solid, real world and all of its limitations in the form of worldly duties and physical laws, and all of its inescapable consequences that come from decisions like not staying in touch with your friends.
I realize that even if I was plugged into social circles, I still wouldn’t delight in the things of this world! People are lovely to be around one day and then loathsome the next. The weather is beautiful and magnificent one day and then boring and dull like it is today. All the things that cause us pleasure will also cause us pain. The only reason I miss my friends so much is because I used to spend so much time with them. The more attention we devote to the things that cause us happiness the more potential we give those things to cause us pain later on.
As I think of all of this the time to begin working at the movie theatres comes closer and I’m filled with dread. I hate that noisy, fast-paced environment and all the whiny customers. I try to remind myself that I should feel lucky to have a job, but that positive thinking shit really isn’t doing anything for me right now.
I get up off the couch and go to the kitchen, into the medicine cabinet. I look at the medication my mother uses to knock herself out since she has trouble sleeping. I take a few of the pills and a glass of water. I hastily swallow the pills and walk up to my bed, eagerly awaiting the feeling of tiredness. Sleeping men do not realize how lucky they are. When people sleep they can effortlessly make the whole world dissolve, retreating into dreams. I wish to do that right now.
I put my work clothes on and set the alarm for 4:45. When the alarm wakes me up I can quickly eat some kraft dinner or something and then walk to work. In the meantime I will retreat from this solid world.
I yawn. My eye lids begin to naturally fall downward. I begin to surrender to the sleepiness.
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