Have you ever feared your dreams because they are not coming true the way you envisioned in your mind and you try desperately to steer and grab the control from the driver behind the wheel and feel frustrated because you are obviously not the one in command? You are a piddling second. You have to stay in your seat, be a dutiful passenger and put on the safety belt. The only thing left is to enjoy the ride, appreciate the view, point out the stops and request for a pee break. Dreams are funny, unfunny things in our lives. I can never forget that expression on my friend’s face when my friend blurted out half in pity and half some other indescribable emotion that my dream is not turning out as planned like somebody yanked the carpet from underneath, like somebody robbed me of my birthright. But life is not a fairy tale or it’s a misconception that fairy tales are lovely, pretty conconctions, when they can actually be dark and grim. It takes all kinds of stories to make an epic life. My friend blurts out truth like writing prompts begging, forcing me to spit, spew and foam in the mouth like a rabid dog. What of being the captain of your own proverbial ship as each one of us is, ought to be, in theory and practice? What powers lie beneath our passenger hands that sends us beyond the illusion of sailing our own vessel. The things we can be masters over still span a breadth much, much more than the width and length of a car. It spans forests and jungles, mountains and rivers, continents and oceans. It runs the gamut of your creativity and proactivity, infinite and not as tarnished as you thought because you tend to sell yourself short. Choose your battles well and you can soar over distances. Each day may not seem to be the clean slate we want it to be or was promised us, but it is, if you look intently, intentionally enough. You don’t need a microscope to see. It’s as fresh and innocent as the day Adam and Eve stepped into Eden. To paraphrase generations in my family, we march into the paradise and hells of our own making. If we have lost our way somehow, the directions will arrive at the time we are ready to be found.
The odd ramblings were ticked off by the usual writing-prompt-like, probing expressions of my friend though not in a deliberate attempt to eke out an essay. They somehow also spilled right after a psychedelic trip of a movie made even trippier in 4D — Doctor Strange. Yes, 4D. Not just 3D. Not smell-o-vision. The chairs shook and jerked every fight scene. Snow blasted when the Ancient One teleported Stephen Strange to the top of the Himalayas. Mist spewed and beside me, Jimmy squealed, “Water!” Wind blew as the world was coming to an end. The experience somehow opened a sorcerer’s portal in my mind and triggered a response to the already strange promptings before the movie which I originally did not want to watch in 4D because I thought it would be corny. I’m happy to have been proven wrong because the effects added to the drama and the extra-sensory input fit the film’s magical, mystical mood. What a hoot to boot for all of us kids!