An Obvious Musing.

Some time ago, I sat alone at a table without a thing to do. With a wondrous sigh, I thought about my options. My head has a tendency to whir with thoughts, like the gears in a clock. Thoughts that I don't entirely understand myself until I dwell on them for a while (perhaps that's where my blog title comes from, ha). So I let my pencil cross the paper, and I let raw words pour from my mind. I've been told in the past that my writing is quite simple, and I can't help but feel what was captured in that time was so simple, yet so important.

I wrote that maybe there comes a point when a writer is at a loss for words. We'll stand there, awestruck. And we learn that maybe our words aren't everything. The true visual, the true sound, nothing can replicate it. And that's it. That's why films were created, or my theory in the least. Where words are strong, but simply not the [real] thing. The same goes for photographs. How will it ever be the exact same?

Perhaps that's what makes it a mystery. Perhaps that's why we love it all. These writings and these photographs and these sounds, because they are incomplete dreams that compliment one another. They begin to replicate those moments in time, whether it be fictional or nonfictional. Yet, words alone let you imagine. Music alone lets you hear. Photographs [let you] see.

Somehow, these incomplete dreams make us feel tremendous emotion. Tears can fall or anger can swell in our brains. Calmness can rest in our hearts. It's all feeling, and it makes me wonder further, are these dreams meant to be incomplete?

Maybe that's the intriguing part of telling a story. These different ways of expression are all stories, and it evolves into how we see the world. We may not have seen that specific event, or heard that certain thing, but somehow, it has the power to alter our perception for the rest of time, even in the slightest way.

I've read books that took place in the late 1800s, and I now look at people and think, "they do not look to be of this time." Then, I imagine them in Victorian apparel amidst old fashioned buildings. Yes, that is my theory or obvious musing on the power of [incomplete dreams]; they let us see the universe in a much different light.

Happy April. I do quite hope you fall into incomplete dreams throughout your days.

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