Journal of 1992: Isolation, Dreams and What Am I Doing?

Before I reveal the story of what the monk told me, I have to tell about my time being ill and recalling my dreams.

Stardate: July 7 or 8, 1992

It is July 7 or 8, I cannot remember which day it is. I am paralyzed again. This is a kind of torpor, a death-like state of indecision. The eternal question pops into my mind:

What am I doing?

If there is a question that is self-defeating, it is this one. I have been thinking about Peter lately. What will it be like when I return? He seems distant. Sometimes I feel as though that entire week we spent together existed in my fantasies alone. That entire time: the disco dance, meeting him on the phone, the days of being stoned, watching Dreams and staying up all night, those memories seem part of another consciousness. They are not part of this daily existence in Japan.

I didn't wake up until 1 pm today. I don't know why I overslept. My dreams were not so interesting or wonderful to stay in. In one dream I was drunk driving, I was going through red lights, my brakes didn't work well, I was out of control and I feared getting pulled over by the police. And so it happened in my dream. I was pulled over by the cops and I got a DUI.

But my dream the night before was very interesting. I was building a base for a tent and I had to stretch out a piece of material over rocks and crevices. I completed three fourths of the task then I saw a beautiful bird perched on a nearby branch.

I went over to look at it. It was beautiful. Its back side was streaked with purple and emerald green and the plumage on the tail was yellow and melon colored. After I had looked at the bird for a few minutes, I turned around, intending to finish my work, but instead of finding my workplace in the middle of the woods, I found a city street, complete with vegetable markets, 7-Elevens, shoe stores and restaurants. I wandered towards this street in utter confusion.

I had only turned my back for a few minutes and within that span of time, the entire "set" had changed. It wasn't actually a "set" but as I now realized, my perceived reality was not real, but always transforming. I now thought of the world as a theater set.

I searched for my tent, I searched for the wilderness but all I could find was a cityscape. Someone or something was playing a nasty trick on me and I felt as if I had just been thrown into one of those pages of The Magus in which real life was just a game, where people play different roles in order to deceive you.

I was certain that if I wandered long enough, I would eventually find the tent again. But as the hours passed, all I could see was city streets, vendors, warehouses, panchinko arcades, bustling people. As my confusion and frustration mounted, I could feel an uncontrollable eruption inside my body. My blood became hotter, bubbling, and my brain was spinning. As I stood in the center of a faceless, nameless crowd, I let out a horrific shriek, a wail that could be heard by every person.

Screaming despite that now a circle had formed around me and everyone had affixed their beady eyes on me, I wailed and screamed. I clawed the air and clouds, I pierced the water molecules and I continued screaming until the moment when I awoke.

A scream of frustration of isolation and of utter confusion.

I have been alone in Kyoto, Nagoya, Nara, Tokyo and have experienced much agony and confusion.

....to be continued.

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