Wednesday, February 23, 2005


Mulholland Drive

Dreams, hallucinations, in a town where dreams are bought and sold on a whim. How can someone who aches for love, knows it, lives it then loses it…go on living? How will they dream? Is love only a dream that is buried under sheets or stuffed in the back of the closet or tucked between the pages of a book. This desire growing within us before we can even see, before we even know what to look for. But imagine touching it, tasting it with all that you are, all that you ever imagined but more, then being told that it means nothing. Laughed at, shoved down, disgraced. Maybe it was only a dream. Maybe that’s all it could ever be.

A dream I had last night. The movie still a fingerprint on my mind.

I see myself sitting at a table. People I know are there. People who raised me. People who I was raised with. The table is round and I can see everyone who sits at the table with me. They are all younger than I am. They seem so young. A saint is feeding me with eyes that always smile…no cackle. Maybe she’s a witch. She serves me pita bread filled with a dark soft substance. “It’s snake,” she says and hands me a small container, “sprinkle this cheese over it. It’s okay.” I trust her but I don’t know why. Her progeny sit around me with mouths that chew and grin. I try to eat the pita but the bottom falls out spilling the food back onto my plate. This time when I look up I see someone new. She wasn’t there before, a young girl with wholesome eyes. The ache I feel when I look into her eyes, I know that I will fall in love when I see them in real life. But then they pierce me. They say, “You don’t know how to see. Look again.” Then I understand. It isn’t love that I will see. It will be hope.

Quite often this dream is lost on ideas like success, ambition and victorious triumph. In reality it is riding along with us in everything we do. It gazes at the world with wonder. It sprinkles sparkle in our desire, and simmers lurking after the wind when the cold has overtaken us. It is beyond our thoughts and it never is completely lost, even in despair. It is much more than a hallucination and we do not exist in it alone.

There is a place that wants to pull this dream from your grasp. A place that conceals love in the nightstand drawer in the name of a gun. This place devours hope to satiate its hunger. It salivates at the sound of failure and laps at the tears spilled upon its skin. It burns to earn and conquer and take. It doesn’t understand that the fresh face across the table with wide eyes is the very reason this place exists. It’s hope! Hope that we can all be seen with wonder. Hope that we can love the way that our hearts have always promised. Hope that there is more to life than what it seems. Hope beyond all this naked hatred.

All of this may be true. Somewhere…but not here. Not this place. This is L.A. for chrissakes!

(A) --you must rent this DVD

Labels: ,


Post a Comment

<< Home