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Sleepwalker January 2, 2006

Posted by Matt Hurst in Uncategorized.
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The problem for many of us these days it would seem is that we walk through the day with our eyes closed. Call it sleepwalking if you will, because it requires a blind adherance to the routine of a working day. Short of using our third eye, a pair of open eyes might make for a drasticly improved experience.
It is precisely because of this phenomenom that it can be difficult to tell the difference between the waking world and our slumbers. As the line begins to blur between the two realms of conciousness, we often leave our lives behind in persuit of the waking world’s dreams. Conversely, we might be able to percieve elements from a dream within the waking world. The latter awareness, which can be identified as deja vu, is a pesistant phenomenom in my own life.

Last night I fell asleep curled in the den of a friend’s new years party to a mind muddied by ether and passively listening to a Tool album blarring out full volume from a ghetto blaster to the amusement of my 5 male colleagues pursuing the lone drunk girl at the party. From there I went in and out of a rather vivid dream involving my friends and the previously discussed drunken woman they were attempting to seduce.
In the dream that girl had invited me on a date the day after our party. The restaurant we met at, an upscale bar and grill anchoring a strip mall on the corner, hosted a lively discussion with each other. That is until my friends, who had shown up outside the bar, called me in the midst of things to deamnd that I come talk to them. I shared a few laughs as we drove through the parking lot, pointing out the shops that I knew rather well, until they let me back in. When I returned to my date, the girl was positively miffed by my excursion on the date she had invited me to, and left the check and the restaurant stomping her heels out the door.
Composing myself a bit, I entered a confusing storefront in the same shopping complex. Appearantly the location offered work in adult films, with dozens of rooms labeled by letters where I could observe the work. I decided to push my luck and turn in an application for work that day, and waited in the reception room with the other applicants to learn how I’d be casted. Not long thereafter I was called into an office before anyone who was waiting before me. I was shown a film poster, and the secretary offered me a role in not an adult film, but a role in an upcoming german expressionistic film by a famous art-film director whose name I barely recognized. I woke up shortly after the secretary described the film as something roughly resembling “Eraserhead”

I woke up gently, with a bit of a warble from the preceeding evening of celebration. Taking things one step at a time, we organized to go out for breakfast at the local Cracker Barrel. After the long wait simply to be seated, I was throwing out conversational spiel over coffee with turkey sausages and hashbrown casarole. Out of the middle of conversation came deja vu. As usual, the recognition of full conversations from a dream brought forth the accompanying visual recolections. I even remember that we identified and talked about deja vu occuring in the dream version (aka what happened today).
After moving forward inconsequencially, I went on to visit my family’s home. The day wasovercast, though I can remember the elation at the moments a yellow sun’s rays pierces through the clouds at moments in a scattered array. We went shopping mindlessly, saw a film (“Chronicles of Narnia”), and I headed back to gather my things for a night out. There was another incident of deja vu that happened somewhere in between this, but I killed a lot of my memory cells the preceding night.
Later on the way to a fire-circle gather in my friend’s backyard, I stopped by a gas station for obvious essentials (fuel, cafinated-drinks, and smokes). When I stepped back into my car, I tried starting the ignition but it failed. Imagine my horror and shame to look back and see the fuel line still pumping into the car’s tank! I could have blown up the entire gas station through the ignition of a large resevior of volitile refined gasoline, if not for some still unknown mechanical safety system having prevented such devastation. I wouldn’t have lived to tell of it.
Later on at the party, in attempting to explain the nearly-avoided incident (brushing off my brush with death), the meaning occured to me. The incidents of deja vu have definitive meaning to them – I need to pay attention and focus. On a day with two occurances, it was almost a kind of a wake-up call to look out instead of running through my usual routines to fall back on. Really, I ought to be doing this everyday, but this call from my subconsious to keep my head up always seemed significant in some vague way. Oftentimes life can seem vague and indefinite, but maybe we’re not paying close enough attention. Deja vu establishes the need to recognize a typical situation with a new approach, and it is only possible with an open set of eyes.

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