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 Dream Of The Dead

 

Note:  The following unedited text was summarized and placed on the jewel case tray card inside the album packaging under the disc.

 

Synoptical Illusions – –

The Dream of ‘Reality existing in (two different worlds)‘ is my way of explaining what happens when I’m asleep and my other ‘real’ life begins to bridge the unconscious soul with the conscious mind.  It makes up vivid little stories and images involving people in my life and it doesn’t matter if they are living or dead.  This Dream happened to be a Dream of the Dead – – the struggle between the anima and the animus who keep me afraid and ‘Hangin’ On‘ to what’s safe and preventing me spiritually from going ‘Back to the Beginning‘ to find my real purpose and meaning, which is the Enchantment:  It’s ‘Everything I Was Looking For – – while searching through all of the ‘Fun & Games‘, the collective, the carnival, the gimmicks.  My dream is to end this life as it is, along with the suicidal feelings to kill myself – – never meaning the physical body, but rather the true longing of the soul to kill what’s inside the mind – – my thoughts and feelings of unhealthiness and blindness.  This Awakening is ‘Not that Easy‘.  It never was and never will be easy.  It’s hard work and commitment.  I was fortunate because when all hell broke loose, a guide came into my life, ‘By My Side‘ who helped me to face the darkness and the pain, who showed me the in-way-out and made me see that ‘Everything Was Gonna Be Alright‘ even if I would “just let go.”  I couldn’t take any more of the meaningless existence as it was. . .I was wounded. . .I had no choice but to ‘Wake Up‘ from the nightmare.  Even if the rain from the collective was persuading me into a deeper sleep, The Awakening had already taken place – – I was already on the road to “consciousness” – – A road of no turning back – – all along, my journey.  The curse had been broken.  And now, I keep these memories in a place where I can later come back to reflect and to remind myself of how far I’ve come and who I really am. . .these memories are hidden. . .buried – – under the rocks.