Requiem For A Dream

A Journal Entry

If it’s not the 2000 film Requiem For A Dream, that I’m referencing, then I’m probably referencing the accompanying soundtrack composed by Clint Mansell which is a motherfucking masterpiece, FYI. Except it is the film- I’m about to reference. For the most part, the movie focuses on 4 main characters, who enter a predominantly drug-induced psychosis. It closely follows the moments in which a drug-induced state-of-mind is beginning to lose its grips on reality. That’s not what is happening to me, before you go having a real field day. Wouldn‘t that be a great topic to laugh at me about? Except, fooled you, what I’m pointing out, is that the way the director depicts the characters as they slip in and out of conscious reality, is the most similar thing I can try to compare my dumbass park escapades to. In the movie, I remember a particular scene, where the red headed lady falls into this hasty regime, where she’s taking her drugs, and zoning out into mostly redundant day dreams that consist of the camera angle zooming into her eyeball and seemingly going through to the other side of her eyes, giving us a fucked up scenery of just what can distract the mind from the “now”. Methamphetamines for one, can cause many a users to spend copious amounts of time fixated on either,- “repairing” something, or even worse, “Just taking it apart to see how it works…” – for several hours sometimes even days.


However, what I make reference to is the moment when you’re so immersed in whatever scene the director managed to put onto the TV screen after zooming into her tweaky never-still eyeball, and by the time the camera angle sweeps itself backwards and away from a totally unrelated scene, one in which you were so into, that you even forgot this all started by taking an outside observer perspective at a hollywood angle of what the mind of a drug-induced patient might wander off to, in her head, once they start to mar the lines between what is real and what is not. It’s not that, which I make reference to. In fact, all that I want you to understand is that you’re watching a film in which the main character loses themselves in a moment, as a direct result of a drug-induced mind psychosis, you become so grotesquely enticed with what the director depicts to be happening behind those lost eyes, that when he decides to pull you out and pulls the camera backwards out of the scene back out through her eyes, it puts into perspective that the whole sequence of events that you were just so immersed in, did in fact, originate, after the redundant scenes showing her lose her grips on routine and discipline and finally ending in an endless rabbit hole of psychosis. When he returns your attention to , “Oh shit that was happening in her mind, she was standing there in the kitchen still the whole time. Only then do I instantly identify with her reaction, as if she hasn’t a clue what the fuck she was doing. She looks around, understands that she is still at home, and brushes it off, continuing on in her delusions. That shit would be hella cute if that was what was happening to me instead, wow- what a great fucking example- I basically gave’em something to laugh about. But, no. All that bullshit was just a stab in the dark, attempting to give you a little insight to what it feels like to be pulled out from somewhere

and not be the main character in Requiem For a Dream. Instead you’re me, and you are pretty coherent, at least as far as you can try, and I know who I am, and I usually know what I’m doing. Unless it’s one of these nights/days. I call them Mars Nights. Those nights, the lines become blurry between the days, so I just don’t even bother.

Every time I’m of course, still aware that I am me, usually, I’ll know exactly where I am at, and by that I mean, I know Stockton in it’s entirety. However, just because I recognize the place doesn’t mean I suddenly understand why in the fuck I just awoke, or opened my eyes it seems, as if from sleep, (where was I? In my mind, I think they are blackouts, just regular black outs-not Brotha lynch -I’m sorry I blacked out officer, blackouts.) but for some odd reason, parks, train tracks, the waterfront, on the sidewalk on random streets, and more places than I can care to admit, I have just, woke up at, standing there, even midstride, sometimes, I just got chills thinking about it, mid-yell. It’s been upwards of 8 months now, since I started to even realize the lag in my perception of time. Some days seemed longer than others, while other days seemed to zoom by. When I first figured out that it was human blinks that marked a moment in time. Literally. I think I can gather somehow, that quantum consciousness is what all the matter in the world actually consists of. I say this because if we are all energy bodies, one with everything, made of the same waters that run through the rivers and oceans, then of course energy at some conversion, is readily turned into matter. (E = mc2)The biggest, simplest example of this in an applicable situation would be like whenever any of you set out to do something, anything, in your daily schedule, and not only do you set out to do it, but you really accomplish this, whatever it may have been, and you complete it. This is, even though many of us don’t see it that way, a direct manifestation of mindful energy, and body energy both of which are essential to the ultimate bend you can throw into the space-time continuum. When people say, “We were all cut from the same fabric.” I believe some wise guy, totalitarian probably, was really referring to programmatically engineered space-time quantum conscious fabric. The actual fabric of space-time IS our Quantum Consciousness. It allows for any and all of our hindsight to become actual factual density property type of matter to be created in the world. The more I think about it, the more I understand, take a look around. Everything you see, everything, streets, signs, cars, clothes, people, babies, families, houses, buildings, fields, towns, EVERYTHING was made with human hands, human machinery, human minds, human hindsight. Manifested into our conscious reality. Think about it, only we can attest to this vivid paradise we live in. It’s the reason we rely on each other for back-up, as to how real this place seems to be. Isn’t it? What if I told you, that I’m constantly being thrown around, into different places that all seem like the same place. Still Stockton, the god-forsaken town I have been in my whole life. Yet, over the course of the last 8 months, I know I’ve been to different places, where things are not happening as they are here. Even more so powerful, I have no idea how in the world I can manage to go into or out of these places. There are few things that I have noticed , since having realized this is happening to me.

Firstly, my perception of time is so fucked up it’s disgusting. And by that, I don’t mean the length of actual time. I mean for example, when I spent a couple days, (a week?) wandering the park, what the fuck was I doing? Most of the time, I was alone, with the exception of a small man, who rides a little motorbike, that I remember at some point was sitting with me. This same man, I followed on a bike 2 days ago and threatened him, because this Stockton, is different, from that Stockton. In this one, he’s wandered into situations he should not have. This is one of the prime examples of my lack of accurate time perception.

Secondly, I think that what throws me in and out of each version of my reality is either divine, or shocking in nature. Both. 2 years ago, I fell asleep driving my honda, and after that accident my jaw was slightly askew. I noticed it right after the accident and would always realign my teeth, and pout at how it naturally wanted to fall back into the askew position. One month ago, I was riding in the car with an ex-boyfriend of mine, and after a heated argument he struck me in the face. I deserved it, but that’s besides the point. He came out of no where when he did it, and caught me totally off-guard. It made me see little stars, like the cartoons. Meanwhile, I was trying to refocus my attention, and trying to take in what had just happened. It wasn’t a big deal. What was the big deal, was that after we parted ways, I started to realize something was a little different. For one, I wasn’t zoning in and out like before, and as I’m trying to pull the stupid bucket I just traded for a stolen car aside at this park, I stop and notice, my teeth are perfectly aligned. It’s impossible.

Today as I write this, my jaw is askew again. It’s eerie to even think about. Talk about a mind-fuck. Here, in this place, people are going crazy. People are going so crazy, that crazy is normal, and normal is pretty fucking crazy. I don’t care whether or not anyone can wrap their mind around the abnormalities that are clearly happening in the world right now, but I could give a shit. It’s happening. You blink so much, that at any given blink, consciousness is so mysterious like that, that when you shut your eyes and open them again, one of these times you might have stumbled across something in your life that allowed you to really see, then one of those blinks might not be as attentional as the last, and you’ll notice what I noticed. It’ll drive you insane, how perfectly beautiful it must be, the creator of all that is, the one omnipotent to create beings, has-beens, and will-be’s that are as beautiful as you and me and everything that breathes life and energy and manifests itself in the world that creates the fabric of all our quantized existences. Mystery is so beautiful, godamnit. He fucking damned it.

He damned it because our memories become real as we blink them into our memory bank as real memories. Our brains are so exceptionally evolutionized as we like to call it, that we don’t see the extent of all our possible realities. If we could understand the fundamentals of all that is, we could all carefully manifest literally anything into existence. Have I figured it out yet? Not even close. But I can set you back just a second or two so you can see, just how attentional my blinks have become. Having become aware of the butterfly effect phenomenon. Have you ever watched a butterfly flutter about? The effect is much like this one, don’t blink, or you’ll open your eyes and find the butterfly might have just disappeared. Or suddenly, you’re driving behind me, and there are millions of them everywhere. Pay attention, because despite what you’ve been told, attention will never pay you.

P.S. Don’t blink you might miss this shit.

6 thoughts on “Requiem For A Dream

  1. I implore you to listen to Mozart requiem, it is his last piece he wrote and he died before finishing it. It may be the soundtrack whilst you are threading through wormholes ripping and tearing at the fabric of the space-time continuum.


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