Dying dream

'Internal dialogue', oil on canvas, 10.5 x 19" made in 2003

Wrote the following on my blog today:

Had a weird dream. I was waiting to die. Was aware of a few others in the same situation. We were in a graduation-from-planet-Earth kind of place. It was imminent. I was supposed to be moving on. It's my turn. So what's with this. Why am I still breathing? I get up. I want some food, man. Had not been eating in preparation for the transition, you see. I was supposed to ingest some ash-like substance to hasten the process. I get up and walk over to what appears to be a mall. I sit against a wall waiting for the end. Some stranger looks at me who seems to know what I'm going through, emanating compassion and understanding. I feel it. Then the figure rushed on to an appointed errand.

Usually I can't recall my dreams but when I woke up it was all still so vivid, as if I just stepped aside from the dream. It got me to thinking. Is my end as a physical being near? My time on earth. It will definitely end, sooner or later. I thought of a friend who died recently... as I type this, one other friend as well. Physically we're not immortals but I believe there's a part of us that keeps moving on, soul, spirit, whatever you want to call it. It is what animates the flesh, blood and bones. It is the greater, the more real you and me. The body a complex, wonderful organism but temporary.

Went downstairs to pee, mentioning my dream to H. She said: better not take you to the mall next time. Yesterday I drove her to the Clackamas Town Center. While she shopped for clothes I checked out a 55-300mm Nikkor lens for the camera. Didn't get it. Gotta watch expenses closely with for now limited cash inflow. Getting sidetracked.

When I started writing this I didn't know whether to publish it on this artblog, or whether to start another, more personal blog. In the past year I've thought about starting another blog focused on trading. Although I still have a passion for trading I have not really figured out yet how to make money from it. So three separate blogs or mix them all up? Then there's also the daily photos thing at blipfoto. Don't know where to stick this in. If here then stop calling this an artblog. Blog, blip it... which way?

As I said earlier this dying dream got me thinking. If I croak now what did I leave? Some paintings, not much and not that good really. Made a few friends along the way and not that close. My relationship with siblings and relatives not well developed. Marriage is fine I think. Spend most of my time on the computer. So here I am with Macbook air on lap. What is my lifework? Well, I existed. The life experience all by itself is good enough. It doesn't have to be great or extraordinary. Ordinary is fine, thank you, but if I want it to be more fun, not just so-so what else would I go for? Before I board the move-on-dot-org bus? My days are numbered. I'm aware of that. What still excites me?

At breakfast H says, sorry you had a nightmare. Nothing like that at all. It was most natural and I wasn't worried, except it made me stop and think for a while. Not so much about death--caterpillar to butterfly, that's all it is, not being tethered anymore to the physical. Life in the physical is wonderful. It's great to have feet to walk the earth with, or at least around the house in, hands to, among other things paint with, physical fingers to type these words with and so on.

The earth is teeming with human beings, all unique and very, very real. Plant life, animal life, what have you. Quite a privilege just being here, going from experience to experience, from day to day. There is something beautiful in the most mundane thing. Question is, am I waiting to die or waiting to live? What is it that truly matters?