You cannot escape suffering

Not even in your dreams

If there is one thing I know about myself, it is that I am not a happy dreamer. I have the whackiest most disturbing dreams. I am unsure why that is because I do not have those many intrusive thoughts otherwise.

I read about lucid dreaming, and I knew immediately I wanted to do it. In fact, I knew I had done it but this thing about dreams is that they leave our consciousness faster than flash.

I pick the worst time to get smart about issues. Lately, I find myself thinking about the genocides that happened across history at 10 pm, right before bedtime. There is no mystery as to why that is happening.

As a high school student, I went for MUNs which was by far the most confusing and terrible experience of my life because it fictionalised everything. Serious mind-altering tragedies were the subject matter of debates as adolescents talked about war as if it were a simulation.

Agenda: Conflict of the Gaza Strip and maintaining peace in the surrounding areas

Forgive me for overreacting, but this was demeaning as people living in peace spoke loudly about their opinions.

I learned very early on that I am insignificant and what I think about world events has no meaning at least not in the position I am in. I rejected politics as a subject of interest. I engaged in no argument for every time I did, I would learn something new and feel deeply embarrassed about the shallowness of my knowledge and understanding. I maintained strong opinions about local issues that were in my circle of influence — unions, dignified pay for those around me, road safety, and small monetary help wherever I could.

I must abruptly end my distaste for academic arguments on global genocide and I must move to my dreams.

I remember listening to many people’s dreams because they tell them with such enthusiasm, and I enjoyed it when people told me I was in their dreams. I love to be on people’s minds consciously or unconsciously.

Sometimes, I play a null role, sometimes I betray them, sometimes I am their guiding light and sometimes I die. I am okay with all roles, partly because they are imaginary and partly because it helps me believe I am not completely forgettable.

Lucid dreaming is sublime, you are the creator of this universe. It feels so real and sometimes I can't help but feel like I am a character in somebody else’s lucid dream. Whoever the dreamer is, really needs a liking for peace because things are not looking good around here.

Coming back to my lucid dream, today I dreamt about a mental asylum.

Readers are requested to not analyse my dreams. I write my dreams not so you could tell me to speak to someone but so you can take them as they are.

The mental asylum was quite archaic, the walls were peeling off — and the iron beds were giving.

People were going through hellish suffering.

I saw someone have an epileptic attack

But the most disturbing image was that of a mother having drilled a hole into her child's head who was then crying and then scooping back the insides into the hole they had oozed out of.

The child wasn't dead, but the mother was deeply regretting what she had done and in efforts to undo that was ladling back the insides

The mother already had a hole in her head

The child was supposed to be caring for her and when asked about the mother’s health, said that he hadn't checked. and I reasoned an optic nerve rupture that affected his vision

I do not know why I was on a sensitivity trip to a mental asylum

I was expecting lucid dreams to be slightly positive as if I were Batman myself but no — it had to be a child with a hole forced to live with that hole in pain.

Thoughts of the lingering aftermath are scary. No one recovers from war. Some die and some are left to tell.

Tell everyone how we failed them.

This feels like abscondment.

To say I condemn violence and Israel seems like a sad excuse for a response.

Yeah, so? My echo chamber already agrees with me. I am not changing any minds. By spewing my historical knowledge, I am merely showing off. This is not the place for concord. By extending public empathy on our social media platforms, we do not become heroes.

Genocide does not happen on social media. Donate, if you can and shut up if you can't.

I shared this dream with someone I know. They said to not watch the news and skip the war content. War content.

My narrative doesn't matter, and my suffering is limited to terrifying thoughts so I must move on.

Disengage, like a helpless coward.

The war may be known to many now but the means to help remain out of reach.

This is a diary entry.