Prosa Poetica, Sogni, Visioni

Watching the infinite flow of thoughts…

And I was in a plane headed to Moscow, where the passengers cabin was full of people sit on their place, but there was something strange about this plane, there was no separated cabin for the pilot, who was commanding the aircraft from a normal place where people sit. And there was turbulence, as always, as some woman said, the same typical turbulence you get when you travel to Moscow, and there were thunders and lightnings in the atmosphere, and the sky was darkened by the night. “You’ll never get to Russia!”, I said to the captain, and he answered: “Look at how wise you are, you never get to Russia! That’s wisdom, man!”, and he started to talk with some other old men beside him, gossiping about some pop artist while reading a magazine, and there was a change in the pilot some minutes after, when a woman took command of the plane, as if it were possible to have a change in the air, in that dream made of science fiction. And I looked at the sky full of tempest, and I wondered how impossible it was to get to that land of dreams, Russia, and I lost myself into thinking about all those years spent to master the language, constantly dreaming of getting to that land, but nevere getting there, and now, even in a dream, it was impossible to reach that country of imagination, and visions of my teachers and other colleagues who, on the contrary, were used to go there, blurred my visions while another teacher told me: “Don’t worry! It always gets some trouble to get to Russia, most of the time because of horrible weather…”… and I saw airports terminal stuffed with people, passengers that waited an half life time, like an odissey, to get to Russia, and it was like a metaphysical trip, through the foulest of weather, to cross the air border between the West and Russia, and I lost myself into those visions…

And I didn’t get there in the end, there was no Russia in that dream, there was only a blue sky full of thunders, and a vague dream of some Russian woman who instead finally reach her mysterious country, and I looked around me to find myself in a sort of garden in front of a school, where I sit under a tree trying to find a power socket to connect my smartphone and listen to some songs, and I don’t know how there was a socket hidden in the trunk of that tree, and I lied there, under the tree, in front of a school, listening to some songs, and wondering how sooner or later my colleagues would enter that school early in the morning, to attend their lessons, and I was like an outsider, a man who attended school without getting stained by people and teachings that haunted that place, and I could take a step aside all that environment, where I felt I didn’t belong at all.

And then the vision changed again, I was trying to sing some absurd song, some black metal songs, in that kind of singing which was screaming and growling, and I tried to uttere some “Beautiful witch! Beautiful witch in the nightsky!” sung once by some favourite metal metal bands of mine, and I saw them, beyond the door of the corridor of the school, my favourite singers, who tried to teach me the secret of screaming and howling in the black of the night, and I kind of worshipped those long haired artists always dressed in black leather, and it was like an initiation towards a world which contained no hypnotic pop songs, no hypnotic singing that drives you in a land full of enchantment and wonder, where your brain doesn’t work anymore, utterly taken away by melodious songs and singing, like a thousand and one nights, while in that dream everything was made to wake me up from the slumber of reason and the hypnosis of pop songs, and I did wake up, in the end, with a vision of my adolescence, when those black metal artists were like my personal prophets, with remnants of their songs and screaming resounding in me…

And I woke up, still thinking about that dream, wanting to put it down on paper, and I disciplined myself to get back to that time where dreams were my constant preoccupation, as if I could find in them some transcendent meaning of my mind, but it wasn’t like that anymore, I just savoured the beauty of those dreams and I disciplined myself not to fall into that bad habit of creating some inner speech towards a deity which I don’t believe anymore, and I only looked into myself to find the right voice in me, the right vision, trying to understand what was happening in my mind, which I now feel is getting free from some bad ways of thinking… and I could swap all my thoughts into English, and I could say stop to automatic readings, to a lot of automatic bad habits that made everyday equal to any others, in a sort of hellish routine which couldn’t liberate me from obsessive thoughts and reasoning… and I just drank my coffee in the kitchen, a Nescafé, and then I got my espresso in the office, and I could wait to go to the bar to buy cigarettes, I still have all the time of the world, and I kind of put into practice that teaching that popped up in my mind yesterday: “Take your time and don’t hurry, you still have all the time of the world, and do as if the world and the things around you didn’t exist, just free your mind from old habits…”… and it worked, I was no more a slave of books, of the internet, of languages, of talismans and objects, I was no more a slave of a kind of yogi practice, which I thought could save me just by repeating over and over again the same mantra, the same gestures, the same old words to utter to a deity I don’t even know, and words and images in my mind started to change, and I had a different vision of time, of the day, of everything, and I was filled with imagination, and words, that now found all their time and space to live, without feeling pressed anymore by I don’t know what… and I still have all the time of the world, that I could shut down this portal of worlds, that I could spend my day doing completely nothing, just staring into the void inside and outside me, without getting distracted by every electrical pulse in my mind, driving me insane and crazy, and I could stay here all the day, watching the infinite flow of thoughts, doing nothing and contemplating all the time of the world…

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

w

Connecting to %s