Last night, I had a dream about being disliked.
I got on the bus with my mother and there were a few dogs aboard. She told me to pick one dog as a favorite and I pointed at one dog. He looked at me startled, wrenched open the window and ran away by jumping out of the bus. Then, my mother detailed what she hated about me one by one, and it went forever.
When I looked outside, a teenage boy was slapped and scolded by his father who shouted “You’re no use! You’re a disgrace!“ I was thinking, “I’m not the only one who isn’t loved. He is having a worse day than I am. Maybe my life is better than his. I’ll put this on my blog today anyway.“ And, I woke up…
I had constantly troubled my parents by asking reasons for about everything in the world when I was little.
“Why did that person say that?”
“Why does this go this way?”
Too many things in the world didn’t seem reasonable to me. Among them, the reason for people’s behavior was chiefly mysterious. My parents had been fed up with my unstoppable assault of questions and their answers had become stuck to “You’ll understand when you grow up.”
Now I’m grown-up, and yet I still don’t understand anything.
Why do many shoppers choose a list-price package on the shelf right next to ones with half-price stickers?
Why do they come to the supermarket without bringing their shopping bags but pay additionally for harmful plastic bags instead?
Why is driving a luxury car by paying outrageously a status symbol while accidents and natural disasters caused by environmental destruction kill people?
Why do people throw away clothes that are still wearable?
Why do people replace appliances that are perfectly working to new ones?
Why do people leave and discard food or drink that they pay for or order by themselves?
Why do I bring travel amenities like toothbrushes or combs from the hotel to my home where they have been stored in cardboard boxes to the amount of what I would never use them all up before I die?
Why don’t I feel like throwing away old receipts and tattered socks?
Why can’t I get up in the morning like most people do?
Why do I have every night dreams that are too vivid to distinguish from reality?
Why do I do everything slower than others although I do it in a great hurry each time with trembling hands?
Why do I always button my shirt one hole down?
Why don’t I have friends?
Why have I felt an urge to wash my hands each and every time when I touch something since long before the pandemic?
Why has the government kept giving so much money since the pandemic?
Why do people keep getting married while marriage doesn’t make them happy?
Why do people have children who consume their money and aspirations?
Why did my mother lie to the doctor that she hurt her arm when she tried to get something heavy from the top shelf and it fell on her although in truth her injury was inflicted by a chair that my sister had thrown at her?
Why did my father suddenly send me a letter in which he lashed out at me severely and at the same time, enclose some money for me?
Why did my parents do so many terrible things to me who was their own child?
Why don’t I stop wondering why? It would be easy and at peace if I could swallow everything and accept it simply as the way it is.
The news about Toyota’s recall and its Congressional hearing has been everywhere and I remembered my then dream car.
It was called Soarer, a Toyota make. It was love at first sight. Back then, I didn’t have a driver’s license, which I still don’t have for that matter, and just in order to be able to drive a Soarer, I went to a driving school. Before actually getting behind the wheel, we needed to take some classes along with 30 or so other students. During a lecture, all of a sudden, the teacher called on me. Instead of giving me a quiz, he reprimanded me for resting my chin on my hand. He said that it was a bad attitude and I was childish. All the class laughed at me. To drive a Soarer, even a proper attitude was required…
A marvelous thing happened to me yesterday.
After posting the blog of what life is all about, I watched ‘Heroes Season 3’. At first, I was going to go shopping but the weather was awful. So I stayed home and watched ‘Heroes’ coincidentally. It was aired 10 days ago and recorded, which means I could have watched it any day. In one scene, Peter’s brother spoke exactly the same thing that I had put on my blog just three hours before. I had never seen the episode in my life and what I wrote was no quotation. But to my complete amazement, he even used exact words I wrote.
I was totally astonished. As I have always suspected, the whole universe is connected and affects each other. To me, it’s a solid fact now. I’ve got the proof via my blog and a TV show…
I still linger on the dream I had, in which a monk told me that I had only 25 years more to live. I’ve given thought to life and death.
I have plans for my future and a fairly good deal of hope, I guess. Suppose I work hard and achieve something, but the remaining time to enjoy it is so short.
What’s the difference between now and then? Maybe life has nothing to do with achievement. Without realizing, I get influenced in a good way from someone, and I could influence someone as well. If I can encourage someone depressed through my music or whatever I do as I was encouraged, that’s more wonderful than superficial success.
I think that’s life is all about. And above all, I’m not alone…
You must be weary of reading about my dreams by now, but, I had an absolutely shocking dream just last night and have to write about it.
I had a gathering with my relatives in a temple. A monk declared to hand out an envelope to the ones whose remaining days of life are 25 years. He handed it to my uncle. He received it cheerfully, saying that it was longer than he had thought. Then, the monk handed the envelope to ME! I choked with shock. I got pronounced that the rest of my life was only 25 years! For some reason, I’d always felt that I would live long and that short life never crossed my mind. I felt devastated and woke up.
I can shrug it off as one of scary dreams, but as I’ve written, some of my dreams do tell the future. None of them has related to me so far, but what if this dream is the first future-telling one that concerns me…?
I made up my mind to become a professional musician when I was eighteen living in Japan. I had imagined that the hardest thing to be one was to keep up better works by strengthening talent, which proved wrong. The hardest thing is money. Scraping up funds for activities as a musician without losing time and energy for music is most difficult. It’s equally the case for either an artist who has made a smash hit or the one who has been unsuccessful like me. And it has remained to be the case today after decades passed.
At the very beginning of my music career, I regularly rehearsed in a studio as a member of the band that strongly intended to become professional. It was the first serious band I had joined. I somehow managed to play well enough compared to other skillful members and didn’t get fired at the first session as I had feared. The band was based in Osaka that is a 45-minute ride by train from Kyoto where I lived. The studios the band used were all in Osaka, which meant I needed to pay the studio rental fee and the train fare each time. I was a college student back then, but barely went to class. Instead, I worked at the restaurant as a cashier and spent everything on the band. My time was dedicated to music and I came home just to sleep.
The studio was equipped with a synthesizer but I didn’t have my own although I constantly appealed my passion to become professional. It had gradually seemed odd that I used a rental synthesizer in every session while I tried to motivate other members to be professional as soon as possible. A thought that other members questioned my seriousness began to cross my mind as I continued to play with temporary sounds. Since we played our original songs, original sounds were necessary. On top of that, when I practiced back at home, I used the piano for a synthesizer that was quite ineffective as practice. I finally decided to get my own synthesizer. I chose the latest model at that time called Yamaha DX7 that was featured in almost all the pop songs and albums in the music business of 80s. It cost about 2500 dollars.
Before I joined the band, I had saved money out of my years’ allowances and was going to use that money to study English in England. The amount of my savings was about the same as the price of a DX7. I had put it in time deposit at the credit union bank for higher interest and for my friend just a few months before. That friend of mine had worked at the bank by giving up going to college because she needed to support her handicapped mother and two younger siblings when her father suddenly abandoned them. I wanted to help her in some way and set a time deposit through her with hope that it might raise her performance evaluation at the bank. Sadly, my rare good deed couldn’t last any longer. I went to the bank, apologized her a million times, and cancelled a time deposit. While she kept telling me with a smile “Don’t worry, don’t bother,” I was bathed in guilt, and yet I withdrew my savings and went on to get a DX7. I chose a DX7 over staying in England and being her friend.
After all, it was just the beginning of the long way that I have walked on until today. Since I decided to become a professional musician, I had lost my friends and my family not to mention a college degree as a dropout. What I gained instead are thousands of sleepless nights for worry about money. Even while I stay awake in the night yet again, I still believe that the happiest thing for a human is to fulfill one’s calling.
One day, I saw numbers in my dream. I dream a lot every night, but numbers rarely appear. I thought it was some sort of sign, and bought a lottery ticket. I won $10. A few weeks later, I dreamed about numbers again, and bought a ticket accordingly. I won $100. I was convinced this was it. This must be the way for me to become a millionaire. Since then, I’ve kept buying a lottery ticket every week, but with no luck at all. For the first time in almost a year, I won $10 yesterday. The sum dropped off. And the total spending for the lottery has become incomparably much more than I gained…
Speaking of dreams, I have one that foresees something once in a while.
Back in high school, I needed to go to school for my extracurricular activity during a summer break. The teacher on duty was randomly selected for the day. I saw a teacher of a Japanese class on duty wearing a peculiar tie in my dream. And the very next day, that teacher was on duty at school, wearing the exact tie I’d seen.
I saw the members of my favorite band go away in two separate vehicles, and a few weeks later, the band broke up in the way exactly how I’d seen.
A big earthquake occurred and an old Japanese house was flattened in my dream. I saw the future date for it, too. Two weeks earlier than that date, an earthquake actually occurred in northern Japan, and I saw the flattened house on TV. On the date of the dream, instead of an earthquake, the stock market tumbled.
In each case, nothing worked for my benefit, because it was too trivial, or happened remotely, or I don’t have stocks. Worthless dreams…
Eight years ago today, I moved into this apartment. There are things that I like about it such as the utilities-included rent, the unique design, and the view. It has the flip side though. Every time the wind blows, TV is down. The roof is so thin that raindrops sound like the percussion. The walls are also thin and even subtle sounds I make trigger the neighbor’s banging. Those things keep me looking for a better place constantly. Each and every place has a flaw. Too dense, too rural. At least one side of the place borders the next-door neighbor. It seems that an ideal place for me to live in doesn’t exist. Well, to begin with, is there such thing as an ideal place to live in on this planet…?
Last night, I had a nightmare. In it, I got up and found myself alone. I was a child still living with my family in my hometown. My parents and my little sister came back from McDonald’s. They had breakfast there without me. I grabbed my mother’s arms and said, “Listen to me! Listen to me very carefully!! You must treat your kids equally! Whatever you do to my little sister, you should do the same to me! You can’t keep doing nice things only to her! Besides, how could you bring home nothing for me? It’s McDonald’s where you can get take-out!!“ But, no matter how hard I tried, my voice didn’t come out. I repeated those words very hard again and again but only my mouth was moving. In the end, I shouted at the top of my throat, and awoke from the dream.
I’m still exhausted. I dream a lot every night. And this one is one of the repeated dreams. Although the details are different, I am ignored by my parents and left alone each time. I’m fed up with this kind of dream but I know I will soon have it again. When am I released from this…?
Mt. Fuji is regarded as a symbol of good luck. Looking out the window of my apartment, I can barely see the top of Mt. Fuji far away after the leaves fall off from the trees nearby.
It’s a season I can see it, but I haven’t been able to find it this year where it’s supposed to be. My partner told me that he has seen it for some time. I looked and looked for the unique shape of Mt. Fuji which was hardly overlooked. Then I noticed that the branches of the trees near my apartment had stretched upward. They block Mt. Fuji at my eye level but not at my partner’s who is much taller than I am. No matter how hard I jump, I can’t see the top. Starting this year, I am too short for good luck…
Eve has come. Only one day to Christmas. To a person like me who anticipate Christmas too much, the rest of the year is just a sideshow. As an athlete prepares for the Olympics, I condition myself for Christmas. You should do everything in moderation though, otherwise you would end up like me who feel sad thinking Christmas is over tomorrow while feeling extremely happy to have it at last. My consolation is a concept of ‘Twelve Days of Christmas’. I cheer up myself saying that Christmas Day is the beginning of the twelve days of Christmas, not the end of it. Well, how can I soothe this infantile myself twelve days later? Let’s say just 11 months to go again…
Merry Christmas! How are you spending Christmas Day? I am having rotisserie chicken, pasta and pizza at my apartment with my partner.
A box was delivered from my parents. It was a Christmas present of wine. My parents usually enclose an attacking message to deny what I do and I prepared myself for it. To my surprise, they didn’t do so for once. No attacking words from my parents. That can be considered as a miracle to me. I wish each one of you a peaceful, joyful Christmas. Happy Holidays.