2:28 AM was the time when the image of the calm waters knocked on the doors of my thoughts. As I was about to disappear into my sleep, I wished I can touch that 5,000,000 km away river with the sight of my eyes, or feel the rain drops on my face as I walked through the narrow roads of that city. Not because I missed the physical places, but what I missed was the freedom of the flawless dreams I once had.
At that point I got out of bed, noticing for the first time in my life I was sleeping in my sports shorts. I walked out of the house, hoping that I would see the moon for consolation, the swimming pool's still water looked calm and peaceful, it wasn’t the river, but it felt like it was something that I could become a part of. It felt like the pool conspired with my thoughts to make sure I joined its loneliness in this unusual evening. I found myself standing at this very spot as if this was planned way before I got into bed. I took my shirt off to jump in, but then I hesitated. As I stood half naked on the edge, I thought "this is ridiculous" for if I jump in, I would be required to shower and wait to dry before I could go back into my air conditioned freezing cold room. I thought of the effort, I thought............. wait, why was I even thinking. I just jumped in. It felt liberating, it felt peaceful, it felt the way I wanted to feel. I showered, grabbed my coffee, opened my laptop, and started writing.
It's amuzing how one starts somewhere, only to find themselves in the middle of a completely different plan.
Once upon a time, I had a dream, it didn’t take place in the west, nor the east, but some bridge in the middle of both worlds, a world that was free of all restrictions and propaganda. A world that I created with my own thoughts, I carved through the best of my intentions and I engraved with my every piece of emotion.
My dream left me when I held it tightly. Broke me when I made it what it was. Betrayed my loyalty when I had no intention of ever betraying it. I couldn’t find answers, till I eventually stopped asking those dry desert mountains for any guidance. I thought and I imagined a world beyond that we exist in.
A glance of hope appeared, it took refuge in the lyrics of songs, in my silence whilst staring at the moon, in the smile of a little child dreaming with ignorance of all that there is yet to come in their story line.
I started to wonder what is the correlation between aging and losing one’s vision? Is it that experiences teach us that it’s time to wake up! Or is it that we lose patience! Is it that we are changing at the core of our personalities! Or do we simply know no better than to sleep and wake up half way through an incomplete dream!
I have no idea how to answer that, all I know is that our lives are filled with propaganda's. It’s filled with illusions of what’s right and what’s wrong. Those dreams tend to always contradict with the plans of others, those with higher power and authority. Their determination tends to be highly supported with force and arrogance that eventually succeeds.
I thought, what if ignorance is a skill one can gain to go back a step or two, a year or two, to a state of mind where they refuse the propaganda written by others, and see no possibilities but that they choose to see.
Maybe it’s locking your self in a bubble of dreams, but then again it may also be more real than any other reality that exists. Finding happiness cannot be controlled, for those controls will always suffocate that dream.
When you see your waters, swim through them with no consequence … sometimes madness is your only key to the gates of your dreams.
Jeddah - 22/9/2011