Archive for Bob Dylan

I Shall Be Released

Posted in Dream, Life, Love, Thoughts, Uncategorized, Writing with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on September 6, 2013 by Patrick Roe

I have a hard time believing that all of the events I’m about to describe happened in one night. I feel ten years older today.

It’s been a couple hours since waking now, so the dream is becoming fuzzier. The first thing I remember is driving near some railroad tracks at night. After passing a bridge, I saw a dark structure with a courtyard. In the dream I remember thinking that I needed money so I went down into the courtyard, and low and behold they had items of extreme value, the likes of which I can’t describe without sounding ridiculous. When I attempted to take some of these items, I just remember that the building lit up with alarms that broke the silence of the night, the red lights illuminated the courtyard, and in the words of Hunter S. Thompson, I knew I was fucked.

I remember being hauled off to the prison, in the back of the police car, feeling the weight of lost freedom. They booked me and threw me in a cell. It was a two person cell, but there was no other person. Just me, and my thoughts. And it stayed that way. I don’t remember going to meals, except just once. I don’t remember the exact blueprint of the prison, I just remember laying on my back. Realizing that I couldn’t talk to anybody when I wanted to, I couldn’t go outside when I wanted to, I couldn’t do anything except lay on my back and think. And that’s what I did, and it felt like weeks within the dream.

Then I got out, but it was only for my court date. I saw my mom for the first time. She was so happy to see me, and so sad about my situation, but for some reason I got the feeling that she understood why I had done what I did. I remember the car ride to the courthouse, I remember having a feeling that it wasn’t real and I’d have my freedom back quickly. However the dream was so real, I knew that wasn’t the case. I don’t even remember the day in court, I just remember that since they had caught me red handed there was no real need for a long trial. I was going to prison, plain and simple.

Then I went back to my cell, and there was somebody else there, but we didn’t talk. I remember going through the motions, figuring out the routine, and always spending time laying on my back staring up at nothing in particular. Thinking. Through the magic of the dream, I endured years of this. Until finally the day came, and I was free once again.

For those of you who have read my previous posts, you will know that my grandfather recently passed away and it’s had a gigantic impact on my life. Well last night he appeared in my dream, picking me up from prison. As we drove, I noticed the roads began to look more European. Past readers of mine will also remember that I have a girlfriend, who lives in France while I live in L.A. for now. Well last night, Papa drove me from prison to my house and there she was. I was so happy she was still there for me, so happy to have my freedom back, and through the roof excited about the life that lay in store for me.

I share this dream with you, reader, because it was beautiful and eye opening in a way that mere words could never convey. I’m still working out the symbolism and meaning, but for now one fact is clear: I feel like I’m in a prison, and Papa showed me there’s a way out.

When Night Falls

Posted in Inspiration, Life, Thoughts, Writing with tags , , , , , , , , , on June 8, 2013 by Patrick Roe

“It is awfully easy to be hard-boiled about everything in the daytime, but at night it is another thing.”

-Ernest Hemingway

Hemingway said it best. The Daylight is a warm blanket filled with distractions that keep your mind occupied. Then the sun sets, the world sleeps, and you’re alone with your thoughts. Sleep doesn’t always come easy.

Tonight my thoughts are falling gracefully, which is a surprise given their immense weight. They have a clarity that allows me to have some handle on them. This isn’t always the case. Tonight is a lucky night, but sleep still won’t come easily.

I’m thinking a lot about the future, about the changes going on in my life right now, and about the path laid before me. I’m starting to realize what life is truly about. I’m excited to meet the people, see the places, and experience the things that will move and inspire me. I don’t want to lose sight of the miraculous in the mundane. Too many people get consumed in the mundane. I want to be a person worth meeting, to shake things up, and never get too comfortable with the way things are. I don’t mean to get heavy with the quotes, but Bob Dylan said this one best: “He not busy being born is busy dying.”

Truth is easily shrouded with emotion. Eyes are easily fooled by what they want to see. Our minds are often too bogged down to process the miracles we witness on a daily basis. To see the world for what it is is not a gift, it’s something you have to work hard towards if you want to get it right. To get the most out of life is more than just living it, you have to be aware of it.

The thinking and feeling of thoughts is where the true magic lies, so I won’t try to encapsulate them further and run the risk of cheapening them.

Tonight my eyes are open, and life is knocking at my door.