I dreamed I could dream

I dreamed I wasn't the only one, but that other people shared of similar dreams to mine. For years, many dreams stayed asleep in some corner of my heart. I dreamed that feeling of incompleteness one day would pass. And it passed.

I dreamed through some books and one of them joined two dreamers. Together they dreamed and lived.

They dreamed they could dream together. They dreamed the true friendship could exist and neither the distance could be able to separate two soul-mates. Although it hasn't evolved besides a friendship, even if because it was impossible their love to become carnal, she was his soul-mate during some years.

They dreamed they could dream even if reality was hard. They knew that when things started to get hard, they could count on each other because they dreamed they could be themselves, without modesty, without fears. They dreamed they could be human, they could make mistakes, they could laugh and cry. They dreamed they could be free to dream and to love.

They dreamed together when they rediscovered old songs and shared all the feelings they felt when listening to them. They dreamed when sharing together their memories, their history, their nostalgia. They dreamed together they could share their wishes. They dreamed together by appreciating art, architecture and decoration. They dreamed of unconditional love. They dreamed they would be stuck for ever and that their friendship were the truer, the more intense they have ever had even by distance. They dreamed they could trust on each other by opening their hearts in the most pure and sincere way.

They dreamed they could dream. They dreamed that the other would have always a palette to color the gray days. They dreamed the other would have always warm words of hope to the coldness of the world. They dreamed they would have always a shelter to the horror of the unpleasant truth. They dreamed love was the most powerful might of the universe and that it by itself was already enough.

But that period of stagnation of horror changed the things and little by little they were getting away from each other. And then, everything changed.

Dreaming became ridiculous, pathetic and all that you trusted was analyzed, judged and used against you.

No, you can't dream anymore. You can't anymore to tell and ask no one the other how was your day; nobody wants to know about your boring life. No, you can't anymore have fears and weaknesses. Suffocate yourself! Keep your problems to you because nobody wants to know about them and nobody is guilty if you are coward and weak. If you are sad, keep your sadness to you because nobody likes negative people and is obligated to help you. No, friendships isn't for the bad times, but only for the good ones. Please, be a nice person because I'm not obligated to tolerate or accept your imperfections. No, you are no longer to be free to be yourself; please, either you add positive things to my life, or leave me. No, I won't miss you and I don't want to know about you anymore, goodbye and be happy.

I dreamed I could trust. I dreamed I could be me, without fears, without shame and be loved and accepted anyway. I dreamed I could dream.

Delicious nostalgia

It comes and it goes like the waves of the sea, it goes up and it goes down like the stock exchange actions. There are days when everything goes right, day when everything goes wrong, there are days of apathy, days of uprising face to small things, nights of loneliness and despair and nights when the joy recycles itself.

Every one lives his own particular universe in a better convenient way for him. Despite of the attempt of uniforming the ideologies and lifestyle, people are still free to imagine. Memories, even they can seem worthless to some closer of further people, they are theirs, they are unique, nontransferable.

And not only what you lived, as well as what you think and feel. People can really try to imagine what you feel when you share some of these emotions and memories, but they'll never get closer. First of all, because they haven't lived the sensation you described; second of all, where you see magic, they can see ordinary things; third of all, you have no way to know due to the impenetrability of the souls.

But getting closer is a half of this. Identifing yourself in some parts too. It is like smelling a perfume that can please to you and bring you back to good memories at the same time it makes another one to have a headache. Or understanding the deepness of a painting while one sees only scratches. And it can be only scratches, perhaps the painter was so pissed off due to the non-recognized work that he decided to scratch because it is “art noveau” – or it was or it will be one day. The art admirer interprets the world according to the window of his eyes, not as people say him to do. People give their own value to the things. Imposing is useless. Contesting too. Then, in these cases, you'd better artificialize expressions and reactions.

Music... oh music. Able to promote an spectacle of synesthesia and awake memories and sensations of years, decades ago. It is listening “Crying in the Rain” and remember a cold dawn, the lights of the poles still on and everybody sleeping on a mattress upon the living room floor. It is listening to “She Drives Me Crazy” and reminding the time you jumped on your younger brother's belly. It is listening “Total Ellipse of the Heart” and remember that in that time the naive people of your street got impressed about a Saint John balloon burning in the sky – would it be an UFO?

Old songs bring back the good sensations, they bring back that one you was, less experienced, but more purer and dreamer. And when you look back in the past, it is like the life was more colorful. Colors fade away until it remains only black, white and gray while we don't meet the death in the total blackout or during the darkness of the indifference. But not only because of this, it seems like people were more glad, simple and spontaneous, different from the desperate people of today concerned in taking part of a dictatorship that promises happiness but that only makes them feel more internally unhappy, despite of the yellow smiles and the vapor tears being convincing to prove the opposite.

Music have this power of awaking the delicious nostalgia that make you want to share, but it is a little disappointing when you do it and the feedback is less effusive. This is not a question of antipathy, but what has a ego-historic value to you, may not have to the other one, anyway. And well, let's accept and enjoy the rich universe of our imagination, of our liberty land. Dreaming is nice, but it would be better to dream in two in a cold and rainy Saturday night, listening to the delicious songs of Antena 1 remembering the great classics and overeating a pizza without feeling guilty.

Tromsø

The hot milk cup warmed my hands during that sunny, but cold, winter day in Tromsø. In the moment that my eyes lied on the opened petit suisse pot, the snow outside melt down and I got back to the 1992 summer. The snow was replaced by the vivid green of the grass.

We ran barefoot along the river coast and its transparent water. We could see its bottom full of rocks and even some fishes. And through the wide and opened fields we could fly a kite and admire the curious shapes of the clouds. Or the several stars that the city lights weren't able to hide in the sky.

The kings of the world excavated the ground seeking for treasures. They climbed some hills as if it was a big fjord. How much History could an abandoned house to have?

Two pots of petit suisse and twine and then we had a telephone. Calm and cozy song playing inside a house. A dog running to catch a ball. No worries.

Chicken soup if you caught a cold. Advices when you were insecure. Studying together if one of us had a tough exam in college. Hugging when we failed, hugging when we succeed. Presence if some of our relatives and friends were gone.

At that time, we lived well. We were friends, we were partners. By the look, we could read unspoken words, we could easily understand what each other were feeling and thinking. We were not concerned with the annoyance of the boring people. We couldn't see fun in laughing at people that were different or eccentric. We weren't concerned in judging everyone and everything. We never wanted to be the center of the attentions, being better or worse than anyone.

We were only concerned in living, in appreciating the beauty of live, enjoying a simple life not expecting miracles or everything great. We don't want to waste time with sadness and its unpleasant consequences.

Nothing has changed, we are just older. We still see the world with the same eyes. We still can see and feel the beauty even in the small things.

We have each other. We are more than friends, we are more brothers, we are more than a family. We are a fortress when we are together. We are light when it's dark. We care, we take care of each other. We are a couple that life joined, unable to be separated by anyone.

Gears of the system

The neighbors of the apartment below complained of the noise and hit the roof with their Scoth-Brite brooms.

The young and handsome king was looking at himself into the mirror. He looked to the interior of his pupil through the reflexion and some of his memories were relieved unintentionally. His kingdom wasn't socially fair, but what would it be fair? Where are the moral rules? He didn't follow rules, his father didn't follow rules, nobody followed rules. They were the rules, they wrote their own. Desirous for power, they cheated one another, killed one another and imposed innocents to fight for the defense of their exclusively personal interests.

Truth doesn't exist, justice doesn't exist, right and wrong doesn't exist. What exists are conceptions developed by men that wanted to turn out to be as absolute truths their ideas, obviously satisfying their personal wishes as well but with a more wide vision (or something to look like this). Anyway, the policy of promoting ignorance in the kingdom was successful. Any policy that requires the veto of all the people always will be successful.

Kings, princes, dukes and the royalty in general created rules to defend their personal interests while the people was starving and dying due pests. Nobody complained, it was the destiny. The divine choose determined a destiny that couldn't be changed. We weren't in the Middle Age anymore but in contemporaneous days. The medieval thinking resisted to the centuries and it's still believed as a divine choice. The royalty luxury is supported by the bottom of the capitalist pyramid and their people without access to the truly truth, without access to knowledge and totally manipulable, either for the money or the fear of the divine anger.

“Dreams are for the dreamers because dreaming a dream is dreaming of a impossible dream. Dreaming is keeping illusions alive. Not dreaming is living a known or unknown unhappy reality. There isn't a mid-term between dreaming and not dreaming in our society of Shiites and Sunnis. Dreaming is expecting that, with the power of the pray, a wish can be fulfilled and, as it doesn't happen, many blame God for their failure. Not dreaming is only surviving: is living the life thinking of the great beyond doing all the things wishing only a egoistic salvation? I sought the mid-term and I felt alone. My knowledge only brought me loneliness. Humankind is despicable, detestable, stingy and coward.”

These were the last words of a philosopher that hit his body against the wall and rolled on the floor until his death, in a long and suffering attempt of suicide that almost failed. The neighbors of the apartment below complained of the noise and hit the roof with their Scoth-Brite brooms. They also complained of the spots and blood that were exuding from the light bulbs, they complained of the bad smell from the body in decomposition of the misanthropic philosopher and finally complained of the police that was on a strike and, because of that, refused to take the already rotten and stinky body that lied on the same place for over three weeks.

The suicide didn't touch a little the philosopher's neighbors. Obviously, his death was criticized by the religious and it was a theme for their terror policy: “The one who commits suicide, it means, the one that takes his own life, it's not a good person; either is crazy of the head or sick of the foot. And they go straight to the hell to burn eternally on the eternal flame while they are lashed by the Devil. Is it what you want, bros? Hana Macantarava Suya!”

His neighbors were disgusting people, selfish, hypocrites. They were an example of the negligence of the king to educational and social justice. They were an example of manipulation. They were examples of people that didn't dream and that accepted misery as their fate.

Xucuncia was a woman that worked from Sunday to Sunday, 10 hours per day. Her routine was resumed to working, taking care of the impolite kids and bearing her husband, Cloriswald, that belch and farted frequently. In spite of that, she used to love the life of Queen of Home. She married Cloriswald because he was a honest, hard-worker man but she was pregnant and needed to join the little goods they had. She used to consider herself as a happy woman, but actually, she wasn't, however, due to her susceptibility to manipulation and the lack of self-critique she couldn't realize the truth. She was also very insecure and used to forbid Cloriswald of going out to play soccer with his co-workers on Sundays.

Cloriswald, Xucuncia's husband, had a humble job and used to say he worked overtime to her when, in fact, he was at the bar. His life was empty and his wife was suffocating him. He cursed the day he got married because all the money he earned, was destined to the house bills. His short periods of happiness were resumed to the soccer games with his co-workers and the goings to Blue Nightspot where he used to maintain promiscuous sexual relations with transgenders. He would die years later to the weaknesses caused by the AIDS disease and he would transmit the HIV virus to Xucuncia.

Cassius was another neighbor of the philosopher. He was a well-known homosexual but, nevertheless, he was desired by the women of the building that he used to snub them. As he was handsome and sexy, he also snubbed all the gay guys in the nightclubs. His relationships used not to last more than three weeks, but he used to be always stuck with someone. However, the years passed, his beauty faded away and his breast felt down. He reached the age of 40 all alone and died alone due to a cancer in his rectum, syphilis on his eyes and other STDs.

Then the king stopped looking inside his pupils on the mirror. The philosopher's neighbors, these were his people, but not his reality. They were gears that helped all the system to go ahead.

MARCUS VIANA - Sob O Sol by souzart

Parachutes

The dream was the fulfillment of a desire, not clearly exposed, but recognized and suppressed by your mind.

It is perfectly possible to save some money if you are open minded. Because when your mind is closed, either you go to a specialist in the issue or you rely on common sense believing that you know enough about yourself, and it is mainly a mistake and that fallacy easily noticeable. Dreams are a link between the known and the unknown, the key that opens the doors to the unconscious. If you are really open minded and humble to recognize to yourself your own weaknesses, it will be possible self-analyzing better and understand the reason of your attitudes, fears and desires.

The dream was the fulfillment of a desire, not clearly exposed, but recognized and suppressed by your mind. Some time ago it would be something you could believe as viable, even though it could require too much mental energy. Today it is acceptable its remote state. Chances exist, but it is accepted that it would be wise not to cross the borders. It sounds Greek, but it is just a reflexion, an echo.

The gates were supposed to be closed, but the carelessness was the opportunity the teenager needed to practice the larceny. They imploded the whole place because it is not wanted, it is not desired the rebuilding. It is only desired that the trucks take the mountain of waste to somewhere far away. But it is wished to connect and disconnect for some time and then untie right after.

It is easy to deal with it when character is something one does not have, when a selfish, cold and indifferent behavior are features of one's personality. Let's be sincere and let's admit that the hugeness of the coeur plus the goodness and naivety are a problem, even they are not something disapproving.

It would be preferable to be together for some time, using each other with the consent of both. No promise, no dissimulation, no lie, hypocrisy, cowardice. Let the time to bring the oblivion and converts the energy of a tsunami into a inoffensive and graceful ripple. And if there is the wish, play the tie-break. But is wanted that there will not be falls and the closure comparable to the mysterious Korea DPR.

Learning how to die

You will learn how to die in order to learn how to resuscitate.

So this is the death. The coffee and the bread do not swallow down due to the lump in the throat. The hot shower could last forever. So did the rest if it were not for the flashback moments that never happened, but it was a dream in black and white, with no Sun, no heat, no touch, no caress. Sleeping in the middle of the night and relieving the last hope minutes. But here I am, alive. Dead but alive. Maybe I am at the Limbo.

We are dying every moment. It sounds tragic, do not you think? But we die because we are changing, the world is changing, the people and with them, our dreams and feelings. It is not the same thing as it was once ago. Sometimes it can the good, a blessing in disguise. And sometimes, the death is slow and painful. You implore to the Death to take you away, but she watches everything, indifferent, polishing her fingernails with her legs crosses, sat in a bench.

That is why we should be prepared to die. Every one will have to find their point of balance sooner or later, like it or not. I am trying to avoid creating expectations in order to not get hurt while I pursue my dreams. Or desires, needs, whatever, only in the end I will know what was it and at the Limbo, I will figure it out. If you do not prepared yourself, it is going to ache unbearably. You will fall and the world will not stop to wait you stand up. If you are prepared, yes, it is going to hurt, but soon you will recover and reborn from the ashes.

Phoenix. It dies and reborn from its ashes, always beautiful with its red fire color. Always.

Dying is not easy, it is not nice, none of us wants to die. But the death is a lesson, a learning. Yes, my friend, life is sadist and expose us to the pain for us to learn how to die. You will learn how to die to learn how to resuscitate. Its medicine has a bitter taste, the time. Dying is not the end, but a new begin, learn with your mistakes but never, ever corrupt your soul, your essence, yourself, to people who does not have patience, tolerance and that refuses to love and respect you the way you are. Dying is not the opportunity to revenge, but the opportunity to be humble and recognize mistakes and forgive the others and ourselves. We are human beings, we make mistakes and we kill sometimes people we love, with or without intention, for them to have the opportunity to reborn.

Ex-pectations

You do have expectations and your supposed lack of them is nothing but the reflexion of what you wished and failed.

There is no point in pretending you do not have expectations. Lie to the world, but can you lie to yourself even when you do it perfectly? You do have expectations and your supposed lack of them is nothing but the reflexion of what you wished and failed.

Who disputes an Olympic Games final wishing to win the silver medal and refuses the gold one? Who dreams of becoming fatter and fatter? Who wants to have acne or being ugly? Who does not want to be loved? Everyone has expectations, lots of them are suppressed even by us when we are afraid of bad comments from people we love and people we hate. Well, we want to be spoiled and the one who criticizes it is the one who wished to be spoiled and never was.

Expectations of you to know that I like your company and I would like you to stay a little bit more for me. Come here and show and tell me you really like me. Expectation of you noticing that I changed something on my appearance in order to praise you – and this time you noticed it by your own. Expectation of not suffering from Cláudia's Disease.

Expectation of becoming a succeed professional, recognized by my skills. Of being with people who cares about you, not about the things what you have. Of being friends that are not afraid to say to you the things you dislike, but that you have to hear for you well being. Expectations of comments in a blog.

We want to shine through. If our love life sinks like the Titanic, we expect our professional life to be ascending like the Brazilian deputies salaries. Expectations of something best and bigger. Expectations of your expectations not to become ex-pectations.

What about yours? Which are your expectations and ex-pectations?

Keep walking

At your left as you ladies and gentlemen can see, we have a way where the dreams come true. And at your right, we have the sameness and the traditional boring things.

The famous roasting and dirty road of Guinea-Bissau, now a UNESCO World Heritage Site, is divided into two ways. You can not stop walking, as if a Johnnie Walker bottle orders: “keep walking!” Two ways to be follow. Make your choice.

At your left, as you ladies and gentlemen can see, we have a way where the dreams come true. It is where the other half of your orange can be found, where you can find what you have lost, it is where you can have everything you like in the place you always wished to... And at your right, we have the sameness and the traditional boring things.

You have chosen left...

Following the left way, you was going up higher and higher. You found shelter there, you started having hope again, started to dream again there, started to smiling again there. Through your veins was flowing the best feeling you can ever have.. Just some meters and you would be at the top of Everest mountain, or some degrees of the stairs that drives you to the starts. You would...

Suddenly everything got dark, you did no have time to understand anything. A motorcycle came flying and hit you on purpose, making you hit your face on the road and falling senseless.

Darkness.

The sky without the Moon and the starts. The blood flowing on the road this time. Through your veins, where once was flowing the best feeling of the world, now was flowing the worst. The one who ran over you was a dreams and hopes thief that uses to drive your victims to the top of the Everest mountain to throw them from there directly to Mariana Trench. From heaven to the hell. Not happy, he stole the victim’s heart, leaving a big hole inside her.

Recover, can you?

The victim tries to get rid of the trench she is. Too much pressure for her head that can not see the sunlight and feel the heat of the Sun. Questions without answers and the desperation to come back to the surface once more. Who is going to help you?

There is the fear, the trauma, the sequel, the scars, the emptiness.

While the victim suffers by herself flailing in the sea, the thief drinks French red wine in a fancy French restaurant. While the victim feels cold, the thief is being warm by the hopes and dreams he stole. While the scar does not close and the pain does not go away, the thief is feeling good to attack another one. The thief does not suffer, does not feel, does not listen, does not want a feedback, he ignores the pain he caused. He does not feel remorse and does not apologize.

The victim is emerging to the surface to come back the roasting and dirty road of Guinea-Bissau. It is the destiny. You can not stop it.

Keep walking!

Almost there

Oh, my dreams are just in front of my eyes now. They are so real that I almost can touch them. I am reaching the last degree... Then my dreams turn out to be smoke and I fall down.

Dreams are like a big stairway that its bottom is on the Earth and its top is in the stars. That is a stairway full of obstacles and broken degrees. The higher you are, the biggest the falling. Are you one of those dreamers who intends to touch the stars in the sky? Yes, I am.

After so many fights, dreams, persevere and work hard, here I am, on the top of the stairway. You may say I am already a winner because I have already reached the clouds and I have gone further. Oh, my dreams are just in front of me now. They are so real that I almost can touch them. I just need to make a move, I am reaching the last degree... My hands are about to connect the man to his dream. Then, all of a sudden, everything disappears. My dreams turn out out be smoke, the stairs turn out to be smoke and I fall down. I am falling, falling down. Stars fading away.

To the winner, the roses, the glory, the recognization and those award that worths more than money: the feeling of you are a winner.To the loser, the lions that devours his head and the expectators go crazy. Perhaps you had better be the 3rd place. You end up winning.

You almost succeed. Is there a feeling that is worse then this? Almost... If it had not been that mistake, I would have won. We are raised to become winners, not losers. The winner is worshipped, recognized and to the loser, remains the shadow and the “almost” feeling.

I am proud of everything I have accomplished, of the barriers I have overcome, but I have not wanted to feel this bitter flavour on my mouth. What makes me frustrated is not the loss itself, but the fact that this opportunity will not appear so soon and even the way I was dreaming of. I have done my best, but it have not been good enough.

My body finally hits the ground and stars disappear to be replaced by a silver sky. The world around me enjoy to see I am a loser just like them.

I almost succeed, I could had been succeed... Well, worse than the feeling of “I could have been” is the feeling of “I have not even tried”. I reached the clouds and this is something to be proud of. And it is necessary too many courage to go upstairs in a stair that you know it can disappears anytime...

Dreaming is not for the weak ones.