That previous post was an aberration, sypmtomatic of the very ill that permeates my life, an inability to express anything. Not only vocally. I have never, and I become more conscious of it every day, found a means or medium of truly expressing myself, be it due to fear, lack of vocabulary, or simple lack of talent. These malformed ideas drop from my brain like shit-filled marbles.
Anyway, this latest psychological insight (or rather non-insight, to any of you reading this that actually know me), is a simple aside. I have recently been thinking about death, or rather more generally, loss. It is not something I have experienced in its pure unassailable unalterable form. When I have left, or something has drifted, or someone has passed, they have never been that close to me. And I mean that literally, not in some bizarre heartless unfeeling way.
My dreams recently however, have been permeated by those closest to me leaving me in one way or another. In simple psychological terms, it is no doubt related to the three constants (sorry to reduce you to that) in my life for the last 7 and a bit years leaving the country within the space of a week. As much as I never said a single thing, I hope they know I will miss them. But they are not the ones who have played in my dreams, it is those from whom I am once removed. And I really do not know what is going on. Yes, they (you) are constants within my life, at the end of a phone, or an e-mail or a Facebook message. And I will freely admit that I do find internet-based relationships slightly easier to deal with (strangely the thought of Shklovskii and estrangement (deep alliteration there!) has just crossed my mind) – but that is probably more to do with other issues than any early-20th-century literary movements. But I think it is the simple fact of my removal that has lent itself to these dreams. The lack of immediacy with many people I care for (despite mobile phones, t’internet, et al) has fuelled my paranoid delusions that whatever happens in other people’s lives, I will always be too late. In certain circumstances (births, generally), I think all parties would be grateful. But in others it would not, and it is the very feeling of powerlessness that has woken me in tears on more than one occasion in recent weeks.
I have no answer, I cannot even diagnose the symptoms. All I know is that this has helped.
