That’s how I feel every time I’m in water. It is my element.
Yesterday, I was floating along in the pool, very Ben Braddock-esque. Well, more like a cross between him and Danielle De Barbarac before she scares Da Vinci out of his boat shoes.
Anyway, there I was, dreaming of another time. A time when I would float in the pool of my (hopefully) future apartment building. Then that put me on my crazy thought train to being surprised by a visitor to going into my one room apartment to thinking about how many hangers I would need to pack when I leave Home for Somewhere.
And then I opened my eyes, looked to the side, and came face to thorax with one of the largest winged insect I have ever seen outdoors, much less three inches from my nose.
In that moment of sheer terror, I retracted swiftly from the water I had recently been occupying, and preceded to shutter from a combination of fear, embarrassment, and creepycrawlies. The next moment, I had to laugh at myself. The thing was dead (p.s. I just google searched ‘giant fly’ to try to find the scientific name. You shouldn’t do that. Ever.) and couldn’t do a thing to me.
After I scooted the thing into the skimmer through a series of distant waves and splashes, I introspected and began contemplating how this experience paralleled situations in real, gravity-filled life.
How many times are we floating along in the wave of our imaginations (word, Bono), when suddenly, reality shocks us back into our physical existence? Gross, antenna-ed Reality.
This happens to me with alarming frequency. I am so prone to delving deep into my imagined worlds, my parallel universes where I am confident and lucky and my my stars are constantly in alignment. The world where I am my ideal self. That is who I want to exist as. It would behoove me to snap out of it and take some steps in this “reality” I am in, the one in which I am accompanied by other independent players, to become this Me I so envy. However, that life is kind of crap sometimes.
I’m sounding a little self-centered, aren’t I?
On another, slightly related note: I must master lucid dreaming. But, really. I am a little bit of an odd duck, and do not think it implausible that our reality is a façade. That we are in some sort of highly sophisticated Matrix. Not that we are necessarily in a gooey incubator supplying machines with life or anything. But rather, that our true state of being isn’t necessarily physical.
Think about it. We think. Our brains contain immense power. Much more power than our physical bodies are capable of. Match Richard Feynman to Usain Bolt, and I’d say Feynman’s got it. Our minds are inconceivably complex (and possibly Sicilian) and unique and the realm in which we actually exist. In my opinion, anyway. And this is coming from an intensely tactile person who is in love with touch. But physicality is not all there is.
But back to lucid dreaming. I’m not thinking Inception or anything like that, but I would love to be in control of a world, for one. If that’s how lucid dreaming works. If it doesn’t work like that, I have another theory. We are transported into a different world, a different realm of consciousness. Trippy, right?
But I think it could be valid. How do we know where we go when we sleep? What if life is kind of like that Awake show with Jason Issacs (confession: haven’t actually watched it even though I want to, but I know the premise).
If I could lucid dream, I could remember my other life when I awaken.
I dunno. Maybe I just watch too many movies.