Archive for True

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.


Some Nights Are Clearer

Posted in Inspiration, Mission, Passion, Thoughts with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on February 18, 2013 by Patrick Roe

Some nights are more clearer than others. Unclouded by emotion and pure of vision. It has been said that announcing your plans is a good way to make God laugh. Well in that case, may He himself laugh in my face daily. I make my plans known.

However, I don’t laugh in the face of any creator we may hail from, nor do I turn a blind eye to destiny. But I know better than to think that I have no control over my fate. These are strange and uncertain times we live in, and maybe they always were. I won’t pretend to be any smarter or wiser than the next man, but I do know one thing: it takes strength to stand up for anything in this world.

A great deal of that strength comes from pureness of heart and intentions. To feel the full extent of emotion, live up to your word, and take responsibility for your own shortcomings. To be honest and true is uncommon, and separates you from many. It will, at times, make you feel like a stranger in the world in which you live. I feel this separation. It brings with it a sense of loneliness, as well as comfort that I’m doing something right. I am almost certain that no person who accomplished greatness felt the presence of a crowd.

I don’t mean to preach, or make myself out to be more than I am. That is not my intention. My thoughts tonight are with a striving, a lifelong attempt at something greater than myself. A knowing that although the day to day struggles may be intense, and the forces against me may be strong, I will not falter. I will be a good human, strong and pure of heart. And damn me if I don’t accomplish something great in the process.

Tonight, I see the path clearly.

“A taste for truth at any cost is a passion which spares nothing.” -Albert Camus

Why Did I Get On That Fucking Plane

Posted in Love, Thoughts, Travel with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , on January 16, 2013 by Patrick Roe

We aren’t born stupid, smart, with grudges, or predetermined preferences.  There’s a lot of debate over what we are born with, whether it’s sexual preferences or the hardwiring of a killer. One thing I think we all can agree on is that it isn’t a whole lot. We come into a world, and it shapes us regardless of how we start out. We are born a blank slate, with nothing but potential.

I was born into parents who didn’t love each other anymore, but that’s just the story of my generation right? Broken families, broken homes, and broken souls that have a hard time believing the love we see in movies is real, or ever was. We are bombarded by images of white picket fences and nuclear families, so starkly  contrasted by the fake smiles and circus acts that surround us. There’s something different about my story though. My parents may have no longer loved each other, but they both still loved me. Maybe that’s the reason I never gave up on love, and still haven’t to this day.

Some people call me a hopeless romantic, and why not?  They have every reason. A week and a half ago I was kissing my girlfriend under the Eifel Tower, and then fighting back tears over my impending departure right as the tower erupted into a spectacular light show. The following picture was captured in that exact moment.



It doesn’t get much more cliche than that. But you, reader, have my word that the moment was as real as they come.  Some people say there’s no truth in fiction, but if this wasn’t a scene right out of a movie then I’ll be your dead uncle. There was even a freshly married couple passing by my puddle of painful tears, as if placed there by the director to tease me with my own dreams for the future.

If you knew what I was missing, you would have cried too. This picture was taken by me about a week before the last one.



She’s going to hate me when she sees that I put this picture up, but I can’t help it. It’s my new favorite, because something about the combination of her look, the setting, and the composition sums up everything that I love about her. I’m sure a stranger looking at it wouldn’t be able to get all of that, I don’t even think my girlfriend would be able to see. But when I look into this picture, I’m home.

I’d be lying to you if I told you it’s easy to look at this picture, and I mean really look at it. You reader, can’t tell by just reading but I had to have a good cry and a cigarette after writing that last paragraph whilst looking at that photograph. And I suppose that brings me to the title of this post. Why did I get on that fucking plane?

The answer to that question is still haunting me, because the answer is I don’t know. I fought every natural instinct, every emotion, every single thought in my head. Some people who read this may understand what I’m talking about, and I’m sure it will be lost on others. For those of you not in the know, let me be the first to tell you that NOTHING is harder than having to say goodbye to your one and true love. For those of you who know what I’m talking about, this next little side note is for you: I hope that you have not grown disillusioned or numb to the pain of saying goodbye to someone that you love with all of your heart. I hope that you are 125 and on your death bed and you still haven’t lost the capacity to love, nor the will to miss someone that you love the most. Because as hard as this is for me, and as stupid as I feel for getting on that fucking plane, at least I feel truly alive

This was my ride to the airport.



Alone. Like the universe wanted to mirror the way I felt as I left. I don’t have a picture, but even the only seat next to me on the airplane was vacated due to a broken tray table. Alone. And damn it all if loneliness isn’t the worst feeling known to man. If we’re getting deep into it, being alone is one of my greatest fears. Not alone in the sense that nobody is around, because I have many people in my life whom I adore and as a writer I really do appreciate time to myself. I’m talking about the kind of loneliness that comes when you don’t have someone there who really touches your soul. Someone who warms you straight to the bone with just a look. I am lucky enough to have found that feeling. My love warms me in that way. And right now she is nine time zones, one ocean, and 5,641 miles away.

I’m not sure where to end this post, or if there even is a proper place to end it. I’m sure this won’t be the last you read of the distance between me and the girl that I love. Just know that I’m trying to be strong through it, and see what lessons the pain can teach me about life.

“The best love is the kind that awakens the soul; that makes us reach for more, that plants the fire in our hearts and brings peace to our minds. That’s what I hope to give you forever.” – The Notebook