The Fashion of Theology and Hearts

Engagement: Erik + Krissy from Nathanael Sims on Vimeo.

last night i had a dream . it was odd b ecause most dreams i don't remember having, even barely remembering the fact that i did dream, just the feeling that my body has een shaken up by some resonance of emmittance through my body's ore. this particular, drea or nightmare, when i awoke i was still inside the dream, vividly, the feeling of dreaming is still on my optical sensors. this is all fascinating because the synopsis of my dream was that i'm dying. i'm dying at a steady pace of something much like cancer if not worse, because the basis of the dream is me recognizing that i'm going to be slipping away very soon, and trying to set in ordser my affairs and things, because we have to euthanizeme *apparently it was better to go out one way before the disease got too rampant, before it consumed me) -i can't tremember all the details and i'm starting to fully come back to cognitive reassoning and betraying the subconscious memory of the details of my dream, but i remember thre instances. one, at my house in my mother'sbedroom, trying to figure out how or who to tell and explain this very seemingly untimely edeath. the other situation was on a public announcement, it might have actually been a funeral, a living funeral for myself, and that one was actually qutie funny. my subconscious is quite thesharp and snappy fellow. during the living funeral, it kept coming time for me to acwtually do it, to inject the serum that would make me sleep the eternal sleep. and i remember me and people talking although i was on stage, and i would get choked up, and not wanting to do it, then right about to but something else would distract me, then at one point, somebody decided to run some sort ofcommercial for their thing, their company or something, and i remember feeling disdain and offense, and some of my closer friends looking at me knowing exactly what i was going to say, we had this meeting tos i could orate my will, aso i stood up and yelled, yea, if anyone else has any more commercials to share, how about we just save them for the end, after i'm dead, eh? maybe the transimission of this dream 's part isn't funny, but in my dream is definitely got earnest chuckles and laughs, despite the grim circumstance, and i think that situation got me thinking, both subconsciously and cognitively. i think that's when i realised that in my dream i was very much trying to shy away from death, that i almost didn't beleive it and i know i had s much more to do, and if i ended it now, i would miss out on so much, but if i wanted[waited] for the sickness to arrive in full array, i would be completely lost to you[its] drunken power. i was sad angry hurt and brimming with disbelief, but a very msall, yet potent part of me was excited. when i think of those mental images of the small circular glass container of the serum that would slow me down until i could slow no more, and the syringe that was designated specifically for me, i have a sense of horror, disbelief, but when i think about preparing my arm, i have a very minute yet bright residual feeling of excitement, the opportunity to be involved and initiating of one's end is very rare, and soon the mysteries of the end of time will all be revealed to me. and yet, there's still a great deal of tragedy in my heart and in my mind everytime i look at the two counterparts of inducing the final rest. there's still other feelings, impatience, like i'm going to just snap it all off at a split moment before anyone can even thinkingand just accomplish the deed and be through with it all, before ayone including myself can thinik otherwise. there's sorrow, maybe regret, but an overwhelming inclination to do it, as if many people desired suicide and now i have been absolved of moral, ethical, biblical responsibility, i can just carry the task and drift forever, there's odd euphoria with that, but there's still that depression, every time i think of the serum and myself, the epople i'm going to miss, the things i have left to do, the mistakes that i have done -there's hurt, everytime i picture it, there's hurt, and loneliness, maybe pity, and that' deep aching of pain, "does anyone care about me?" maybe it's fear. in any regard, the ultimate part of my dream before i awoke because of physical things transpiring in the real world were translating into my dream, throwing ti's projedtions off. the alst part was me with i think a friend and maybe my brother but it's hard to say for certain. but we were at my house in alaska, very specific, and there were cars out from but i didn't recognize them, i think the friend was just, although i didn't realize it at thsi point int he story, until he offered t put something in my car, and i was like, oh, i didn't even knmow i had acar, so id nd't really say anything to justin, just let me[him?] search around to find my car, out of the 3 or 4 there, through the bit of slushly snow still about on the ground. then i went to see my mom in her rom, because i din't think i ever actually got to talk to her andexplain the whole thing. but there was nobody there, but somebody in the bathroom, sioi knock and two "friends" open the door, i can vividly picture these epople, but moreso i cansay that they are not realy epople, projections of my mind, complitations of real people's featukerws. the first was a tall think and slender man, but more so a young mnan, with a bit of facial hair that was unattended to in the msot adolescent way possible, and a big curley afro that wasn't brushed but very thick and unchartered, as it were. he was wearing a ppolor that accentuated his pequite neck and his protruding adam's apple that, i would most commonly associate with nerds. i think these guys are more friends of my brother than i, i know them, but i'm the shocked to see them, not as in disbelief, but in oh... suddenly i have lostof communication skills and desire, not out of interest, but sheer out of backgound relation. the toher young man, was very average, where the other friend had very paticular facial features that were distinctly ethnic other than caucasian purely, this one was very typical european descendent. white, goatee, blue eyes, sout, not tall, if not even a lil' short, kinda soft, unattampted hair, just standard unhop uncultured combling job, and he was just wearing his qhite shirt, with the critical eyes, and the braod lower mandible, although reality is, he probably is just more shy than critical and stern. i forget that sometimes peple are as prone to misunderstrand me and i am to misjudge them and mistrust them as if they are out to get me, a complex from my childhood that i still carry slightly off my shoudlers sometimes. ain any regards, they were just hanging out, if not housesitting for my mother, and we were talkign and they had no lclue that i was passing away, and i had no clue to indicate this to them, the first fellow wasdefinitely more aware and considerate of who i was, his slightly more sleek brown eyes alight with social inclination,and his aquiline -birdnose that gie his eyes a dim drawn back look couldn't even stop that. taht's reallyall i can remember, the final thought of having to find my mother to tell her that i would soon be gone was the resonating thought cefore iactually awoke. that and the burning residing feeling that i was cancerous and lost and there's a dim dark type f hope, in knowing that you can change your outcome, but it's not all so bad, so you can just bear through it, and let the boat steer itself unto the enxt adventure, as i said, it's dim, it's like a lamp that just depletes all the warm colors from life, and it's dark, like a depressing tone of weather and atmosphere constantly around, but there's a bit of beauty in that hope, you just have to tell yhour standards to shove off and your expecations to get over it. there's some poetic beauty in the darkest and colorless of stories. What if life wasn’t so different from dreams – erik mason.