[not so] Diaphan(o)us Dreams

Of the fifteens books I read of Haruki Murakami, my favorite to date is Hard-boiled Wonderland and the End of the World. The novel is formatted so that two different universes are presented in alternating chapters. One universe is the "hard-boiled wonderland" (imagine Blade Runner in Tokyo), or reality. The other is the "end of the world" (imagine The Lord of the Rings with unicorns), or the world of narrator's subconsciousness. This latter universe much intrigued me and had me wondering how my subconsciousness would translate.

The revelation came one morning last year most unexpectedly. While I was blow drying my hair, getting ready for work, I was suddenly reminded of a dream I had in first grade, and its "sequel" of a dream I had as a college freshman. And I knew that these old dreams, somber and morbid, were the portrayals of my psyche.

Ever since, I'm more attentive to my dreams. These are my inner voices, an introspective mirror. Their messages are clear. Unfortunately, they must first be deciphered.

Edvard Munch, Anxiety, 1894