There's something to be said about the power of dreams. From the moment our heads hit the pillow and our minds power down, it opens the floodgates to our most deepest and purest thoughts. Once our eyes are closed, we can imagine almost anything. We can be almost anything.
Some dreams we remember, others we don't. But we do dream. Every night of every day. I remember at the University of Ghent, we discussed different theories about dreaming. Allow me two seconds while I go grab my Psychology course book and look them up. Don't go away, I'll be right back.
Okay, so a first glance at the content table, didn't exactly show me where I could find it, so just bear with me for a couple more seconds, while I search the back of the book. It's gotta be in there somewhere.
Yes! Found it. Page 206. Dreams. First of all, there's the Freudian way to interpret dreams, in other words, it always comes down to you "vanting to shleep viz your fazzer". Then there's the activation synthesis theory that calls dreams the by-product of the need for REM-sleep. This heightened activation in the brains, causes it to short circuit, apparently. These scrambled, chaotic jolts of electricity coursing through our brain, conjure up the most unbelievable images which we calls dreams. And then of course, there's the evolution theory that says dreams are evolutionary determined and help us deal with the natural dangers of the world. In a way, it's like an anti-anxiety pill.
Don't know if this information is helpful, at all, but I just figured, couldn't hurt to share some knowledge, right?
Anyways, the point -I think- I wanted to make with the whole 'dreams' thing was the fact that, lately, I've been thinking a lot about my dreams, not limited to the nightly ones. As I'm writing this, I'm listening to The Bravery's 'Believe', a song which, for all intents and purposes is quite inspiring and I feel it sets the mood for this particular bit of amateur blogging.
When I was little, I used to think I had it all figured out. I wanted to be a psychiatrist, be happily married and have two children, boy and girl. Oh, and two dogs and a nice house in the city. It's your average infancy fantasy, no? But somewhere along the road to adolescence and young adulthood, something changed. The pig picture remained the same, but the details slightly altered.
I wanted to be a writer slash English teacher, live happily together with the woman I love and have two children, boy and girl, same thing. The two dogs and the house in the city also remained. And although my writing doesn't do justice to the difference between these two scenarios, there really is one. But maybe it's more of a feeling than a simple change of words.
I think my way of looking at the future has changed. Where it used to be as simple as finding the right girl, it has now become infinitely more complex. Marriage might have been the solution for post-war America back in the day, but now, I don't think it is the patch for the ache it was all those years ago.
As for my dual profession, I can only atribute that to my whimsical nature. You see, when you're little, you can dream big and over the top, but after a while, you've got to take it down a notch or seven and bring it down to reality. And the reality, in my case, was that Statistics was not my friend. Ergo, bye bye future in psychiatry. After that dream got extinguished, I guess I started looking at what made me happy, instead of what made me wanna be something I wasn't or couldn't be. Writing seemed like the perfect cure for that particular itch.
So now, I've been on the fast track for a future in the publishing world for quite some time. I went to Ghent, hoping to major in Journalism, switched to Brussels (tried three different directions), but the endgame always remained the same: writing. Only now, after having been made aware of the dire state of things in the media, I added English professor to my dream of becoming a writer. Seems only natural to have a back-up plan, in case worse comes to worst.
I guess what I'm trying to say is that the world will always throw up barricades to mess up your dreams. Sometimes you need to abide by them and take the prescribed detour, but every once in a whole, Fate delivers you a wrecking ball that lets you tear through those barricades. So, by what I just said, turns out I took the detour. But maybe that's not such a bad thing? After all, in life, isn't it all about the journey anyways?
Anyways, the point -I think- I wanted to make with the whole 'dreams' thing was the fact that, lately, I've been thinking a lot about my dreams, not limited to the nightly ones. As I'm writing this, I'm listening to The Bravery's 'Believe', a song which, for all intents and purposes is quite inspiring and I feel it sets the mood for this particular bit of amateur blogging.
When I was little, I used to think I had it all figured out. I wanted to be a psychiatrist, be happily married and have two children, boy and girl. Oh, and two dogs and a nice house in the city. It's your average infancy fantasy, no? But somewhere along the road to adolescence and young adulthood, something changed. The pig picture remained the same, but the details slightly altered.
I wanted to be a writer slash English teacher, live happily together with the woman I love and have two children, boy and girl, same thing. The two dogs and the house in the city also remained. And although my writing doesn't do justice to the difference between these two scenarios, there really is one. But maybe it's more of a feeling than a simple change of words.
I think my way of looking at the future has changed. Where it used to be as simple as finding the right girl, it has now become infinitely more complex. Marriage might have been the solution for post-war America back in the day, but now, I don't think it is the patch for the ache it was all those years ago.
As for my dual profession, I can only atribute that to my whimsical nature. You see, when you're little, you can dream big and over the top, but after a while, you've got to take it down a notch or seven and bring it down to reality. And the reality, in my case, was that Statistics was not my friend. Ergo, bye bye future in psychiatry. After that dream got extinguished, I guess I started looking at what made me happy, instead of what made me wanna be something I wasn't or couldn't be. Writing seemed like the perfect cure for that particular itch.
So now, I've been on the fast track for a future in the publishing world for quite some time. I went to Ghent, hoping to major in Journalism, switched to Brussels (tried three different directions), but the endgame always remained the same: writing. Only now, after having been made aware of the dire state of things in the media, I added English professor to my dream of becoming a writer. Seems only natural to have a back-up plan, in case worse comes to worst.
I guess what I'm trying to say is that the world will always throw up barricades to mess up your dreams. Sometimes you need to abide by them and take the prescribed detour, but every once in a whole, Fate delivers you a wrecking ball that lets you tear through those barricades. So, by what I just said, turns out I took the detour. But maybe that's not such a bad thing? After all, in life, isn't it all about the journey anyways?
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