Tuesday, July 17, 2007

Where is G on Mendeleev’s Table?

Your waking mind can be such a deceiving, insidious monster. It can fool you into believing things about the seductive simplicity of its own power. Things as stupid, clichéd and untrue as 2 plus 2 equals 4.

Things like putting memories, and thoughts and people out of your mind.

But it never is as simple as saying I’m not going to let my mind dwell on this memory. Or that one. Or any one of those that made up a year and some, na?

After all, how much is one year of your life, really? Give or take some?

Nothing much, your mind will tell you. It will goad you into believing that you’re being a weak fool to be so stuck. Until, of course, the day that you discover with horror, the truth behind your inability.

The terrifying, overwhelming, colossal truth.

A truth that you could’ve only discovered by waking up in the middle of a dream, quite by chance.

A dream so inconsequential, that its essence is the boring detail that makes up the necessary but perennially unnoticeable continuum of each waking day.

Was the window of the car rolled up three quarters or three fifths?
Did the grey corduroy of the car seat look slightly greyer under the shadow of four sets of bums?
Were you secretly pushing and expanding your muscles in the back seat trying to greedily but subtly hog more space as you were squeezed in with three other people?

And if you realise that even at the heart of a numbingly boring dream, in the midst of noticing the grey of the car seat, the rolled-up-ness of the window, and the secret measuring of how much space you’re making by flexing your butt muscles, there is a deep dull sense of only one thing -- the one thing that you’re trying to escape in your waking moments; the one thing you’ve told yourself should be easy to get past if you just ignore the urge to dwell on it; then what?

I’ll tell you.


Then, suddenly it dawns on you that this dull ache, this consciousness of a singular thing is what makes up the fabric of your thought. It is the thoughtron that you will arrive at if you were to continuously divide your thoughts by themselves, down, down, down well into infinity, to finally arrive at the inner universe of singleness. Indestructible. Indivisible. Building block of your presently thinking self.

And with the deepest sense of terror, you realise that the essence of those thoughtrons is the letter G.

Like a Warhol poster of Campbell Soup cans spawning endlessly, it is the pixel of your consciousness. The letter G. The image G. Grey and Green. Buddha and Gold.

Then it makes sense. The sudden, breathless sightings where there could have been none, like the one at South Extension market, in a blue Benetton t-shirt, pausing a moment, hands cupped, head bent, to light a smoke.

***
Last night, I saw a baldpate. I couldn’t believe it. Luxurious golden locks reduced to a straggly rim already?! Wasn’t this supposed to happen in our forties, a decade and a half into togetherness? But I happened to notice it at a despondent moment in the course of one iffy night. Yet again.

Why must you be so unsure, even in my dreams? And why must I continue to dream?


18 comments:

houseband00 said...

Oh, H. It's about time to move on to the next letter. =)

Lizza said...

Vivid. This post just vivisected my thoughts. Still, I strive for victory -- vainly.

Damn dreams. But I do hope you continue to write about them, even if they involve something as visually unsavory as un-leonine locks.

H said...

HB, H being the next letter, it is a very good idea.

Lizza, yes. you said it sis. In vain. But you see, it WASN'T unsavoury at all. Especially not on this particular protagonist :-)

B Ditty said...

You must continue to dream because it keeps you going, and makes you the awesome person you are.

H said...

Aw. thanks Ben. :-D

pRicky said...

if you dont then how aould feudians know what you are thinking???
So it is essential for you to dream so they have a livlihood and their famlies can eat and their children can study and become freudians themselves. Its about the whole economic structure. You cant want to destroy the all of this by not dreaming... you are too utterly cool for that!!!
So dream on, H...
Ill raid your fridge and we can have a long chat in one of your dreams about how its essential that you start buying me food full time...
and how you that includes you paying for all my movies as movies and books and music are all married for eternity with food...

Disclaimer: violence of any kind is also beneath you cause you are utterly too cool!!!

H said...

right. Now, gimme your mummy's telephone number bwoy. pronto.

pRicky said...

Oh man!! This is just happening just way to often...
I mean why do you have to end all the convos with that?
Thats just inhuman...
pure and undiluted hannibal lecterish cold kind of inhuman...
:D the pure clean soul smile I could bat my eyelashes but wont be able to carry it off...

H said...

Oho.

But Hannibal Lecter is not so bad, given our remarkable physical resemblance and all. Starts with H too.

But I'm more the vegan sort, if you're asking. Thank you. :-)

H said...

And yes yes pricky, you're welcome to the movie, food and books festival that i shall be hosting. such the coincidence na!!??

now stop sulking.

pRicky said...

and for this you get the wettest most slobbering kiss you could ever imagine smack on your forehead at the center of Left side and the right side,,,
THANK YOU

Witness Street said...

Oh my goodness.

You know I subscribe to the Daily Dream Decoder from Astrology.com?

I read 'em everyday but nothing makes sense.

Well...I've just read this post and now I feel I've been granted a new sense of comfort in the strangeness of dreams. The awful, "aching", strangeness that lingers or comes back at the most untimely moments in waking life.

Thank you, dear. This is poetic.

floatin' said...

H!
You MUST see how we have offended some soul out there! And PLEASE respond, I DON'T know what to say!!

H said...

oho, Pricky, you do your slobbering on the food ok?

Migsssss, awww. Don't you alluss know what i mean? How do you? I don't believe you need a dream decoder at all. And they are all fulla bunkum mostly, anyway. So next time let us to discuss our dreams then, and make sense of them over that awesome sounding philippino dish they have... that thing Liz described and now I can't remember the name... the mix of lots of sweet goopy things. Helo helo! yep. that's it!

Floatin' as always, I flail my tongue shamelessly where smarter people fear to breathe. ;-)

Witness Street said...

Halo Halo! Though Helo Helo sounds awfully cute.

H said...

oops. ;-P hahahaha. I'll remember now.

go(ld)phish said...

i HAD read dis one. but besides depression, anti-histamines cause rapid memory loss. i swear.

H said...

Sweetie, it's ok. Really! :-)) It doesn't matter any more.