Wow… I just woke up from a nice and very long dream, as hoped for in yesterday’s entry. It started in school with some strange professors, and ended in the forest as spies, with some dramatic political intrigue against China, involving some kind of technology schematic… but in between were a series of perfect road trips or camping excursions into the mountains with Claire Brown and her old Calvert family (what a pretty name, ‘Claire Calvert’; her face defined beauty and her name defined euphony). There were also somebody’s small kids (not mine) to baby-sit. They were all very welcoming.
What a marvelous simulation… I couldn’t have been happier. If this is all I get — if she’s impossible in the glaring reality of daytime but possible in nocturnal virtual reality, then it will have to suffice. …Like old Captain Kirk in Star Trek: Generations, trapped forever in a completely happy illusion, inside that spatial fissure…
I confessed my sadness to Myeong-Seon late last night, hoping she would understand, and asking if it would really make her so happy to be together even if my heart were occupied or absent. It seems like it would… She’s stuck alone too, after all. She’s very good, and the only one who will have me, so I think I might as well. Her smile rivals Claire’s for sweetness, and outdoes it for sincerity. If only I could transpose their identities in my heart… I would seize my moment as the world’s happiest person.
We have mutual respect. We get along. We could have a tremendous lot of fun, as already demonstrated; I think we can feed into each other’s creativity. We already have two years of good memories between us. And she needs to hurry if she’s going to be a mother.
I wouldn’t want to mistreat or short-change her, but if it’s really either a long, slow death alone or a ‘simulated’ happy family to distract me… then I know which one is worse, and it’s not the fake one. I would care for them too somehow, in spite of my old, recurring, but broken dream of Claire; and there’s no more loyalty to be had to that dream, when she’s already gone and happy with another. There barely ever was any loyalty, when she hadn’t ever thought of me from the beginning.
They’re my true… my truest feelings… a lifetime of feelings. But they exist now only in fantasy, in the ether of slumber.
It’s an easy choice, right…? A half-hearted something instead of a devoted nothing? But we’ll try not to be rash, anyway. She thinks I may meet someone I’d really like in Korea or something. I have also tried to imagine so… but having already been there, I doubt it.
[At church, there was a man from Wales (now ‘Jersey’, whichever one he meant) named Peter (or “Pe-tuh”), here visiting the Smiths. “Aw…” I thought. “Must be Vivian…” She’d served a mission over there, long ago… He seemed o.k., and I was glad she had a plan to be following, anyway. I thought it was shallow of me to assume she didn’t have a full social complement around her. I started hoping for the same with Allison, who is now attending church wherever. She probably knows tons of guys…
Peter participated in our elders’ class, taught by Jeremy Clegg. Jeremy seemed to make a joke out of everything, but by the end, the lesson had gotten fairly informative and well tuned, to me… After class, I talked with the visiting young man a bit. Surprise; he was actually here with his wife, Alex, who had been a missionary companion of Vivian. They were here to help put on a “Nauvoo Pageant”.
Well, I’m sure cute Vivian has plenty of others. But as I left the building, I felt better that I could still have her as a possibility, to hover around in my mind and make me feel important. It’s good to have those…
I didn’t interact with the Calverts at all; I don’t really see the need anymore, since finding out Claire’s happiness. They have their own lives and loved ones to be caught up in. I’ll stay out of their way…
By coincidence, I came home to find my mother preparing to doze off to a movie, Avatar — the consummate dream-world experience.
At one point, Jake Sully sadly declared of his inverted realities, “Sooner or later […] you always have to wake up.” …But in the end, he traded up.
Ours here is not such a world.
The likelihood in scripture seems to be that this ‘real life’ we’re stuck in is the true dream after all… a sort of living death for our immortal spirits — and a total deception by our senses, a blindness through our false, mortal sight.
…And it seems that this life is a forgetting of the real world.
We sang #292, ‘Oh, My Father’, in sacrament meeting.
…Maybe those we love here are really our forgotten friends…
Maybe we were all friends there, being family.
But this world, it seems, is the fantasy we must wake up from in the end.
Out of the abundance of our thoughts, our minds dream.
But then again, out of the abundance of our lives flows our heavenly recompense — we are blamed upon Christ, but rewarded unto ourselves (1, 2, 3, 4). So, perhaps that greater reality will still be very much like a dream after all, harvesting a bounty from the seeds of our best efforts and purest hopes.
These dreams of association with her whom I loved, Claire — not desires of possession, by any means, but of mutual sociality — and this… glassy pane that I sometimes glimpse images in, deep in the night…
…May yet prove to be a window to a truer future, and not just a mirror reflecting the yearning of past and present.
I will hope for it, as I hope for life itself, in that wider world above us… that super-consciousness waiting after this present sub-conscious.
She would “see me” there, and I could “see her”… to lean on Avatar parlance.
I could see them all.
That’s the place I want to be in, though it must be called a ‘dream’ now, whilst waiting in this… deluded lifetime.
This is more like a prison sentence…
My friend Stetson has his so-called imprisonment. But truly, we’re both imprisoned alike on this world; all men are. There’s only the faintest taste or scent of freedom here…
That’s the point we’ve reached in our progress, though. I’ll wait out my term.
My dream will be true in the end. So many sad prayers to a seemingly deaf heaven will be answered there, that could not be answered here in this simulacrum of life. This isn’t ‘life’ we’re living; this is just a death that we’re dying.
I’m content. For a prison, it’s not really so bad. Yes, there are still walls all around me… rising up like the mountains encircling this valley. No matter where I go, there are walls and fences. Even the poor astronaut, thinking he has escaped the whole world, remains boxed in, a prisoner like all of us.
But within my limits, I can still live, and move, and think, and do according to my will and means. I can still run hard and sleep soundly. I can still eat delicious food, and quench my thirst. I can still ponder life and meaning in my journal. I can still stretch out my limbs to the sky, stretch out my gaze into the sunset, and stretch out my thoughts…
Even my long dreams seem short when their time is up. So this dream of life will seem to have been short. Old people say it is.
I’ll do my best to burn out this short life in service, thought it’s just a blind man leading other blind down a common road.
I’ll walk patiently toward my dream.
…There’s really no other choice… except a fool’s choice, that I once considered so carefully.]