Is this just my way of describing another date with Ms. Serendipity? As if knitting a sweater, am I creating something using threads of coincidence, weaving together unrelated characters, places, and events? Am I taking advantage of my not-so-literary license as a creative writer? I like Ms. Serendipity, but whenever we get together, that Murphy character always shows up and lambastes me about my exploits. Right in front of her, to boot! What’s up with that?
It’s when I’m half asleep that unusual things occur! Just the other night, shortly after I went to bed, I was restless. My conscience was channel surfing with my subconscious. I was extrapolating old memories, trying to bring them to a new reality, a realm, somewhere, sometime, in someone else’s future. Akin to Poe’s poem, I too was a captive within “A Dream Within a Dream.” As matter moves along, riding the waves of nothingness, then nothing matters. However, once we can observe nothingness, then nothingness becomes everything that matters. If I couldn’t come to terms with a pop-up image, then I would discard the old faded Polaroid memory, go back to my thought hamper, and once again, rummage through my past.
I knew not to fight the process. The more restless I became, the more I tossed and turned, the greater the impact of my soon-to-be-discovered epiphany would have upon my being. Only then could storing it within the edifice of my psyche even be possible. The worst thing I could, and often used to do, was just to roll with it. Even while in my slumberous stupor, I would lie to my “Self” just to appease my yearning to go back to sleep. “Oh, I’ll remember to write about this in the morning. I won’t lose the feeling I have. And I can hold on to the clarity of my thoughts, purpose, and panoramic vision… At least until I sit down to think and write out my vision(s) through reasoning. I can hold on to these feelings for at least a week…” Whenever I failed to get up and write down my feelings and capture these passing moments, the next day, I would find my “Self” abandoned. All that remained was nothingness, absent all the matter. Within that moment, I became the void!
Over the years, I‘ve learned to be proactive. I get out of bed, grab a pencil and a pad of paper or go to the computer and jot down my thoughts and feelings. When I come back to the piece the following day, or even later, I may still ask myself, “What was I thinking?” or I may say, “Okay, there’s something here.” Either way, I endeavor to decipher the message I had just received from the cosmos. After that, I can then figure out what to do with it.
Recently restless, I got up in the middle of the night to capture another elusive moment. It was a strange experience, imbued with several feelings but absent any signs of an impending epiphany. As I once was a predator, now, I am prey!
While sitting at my computer, fussing about, waiting for “Gadot”, I noticed I had a book right in front of me. I use it to elevate my keyboard. I’ve never even opened it up and flipped through it before. Though, as with many of you, I was familiar with the title. It was a copy of “The Count of Monte Cristo”, by Alexandre Dumas.
A brief digression… The last meandering thought and the reason I was tossing and turning was that I repeatedly asked myself, “If I had to guess who I might have been in a previous life, who would I’ve been?” Not who would I want it to be? If I had that option, I’d probably choose Buddha, Jesus Christ, or someone like that. I certainly wouldn’t choose Genghis Khan, Rasputin, Jack the Ripper, or you.
Anyway, at least a dreamscape of sorts was forthcoming. I don’t control the process at this stage. Time to get my lazy self out of bed before the feeling dissipates.
Where was I? Oh yes, as I sat, bewildered, I continued to entertain the question. It was a tough one; I had trouble staying focused within my quest. Once again, I meandered into my trove of old memories. I looked at some characteristics, traits, and things that I liked and didn’t like about myself and others. I took a deep dive; when I came out of my trance, I was still staring at that book.
I thought I would allow myself to get distracted, but for just a minute or two; what can it hurt? I opened the work with a short preface. It was about Mr. Dumas and told about how his art, with his melodramatic literary style, was congruent with how he lived his life. Hmmm, I can relate. Then I discovered how he was well-to-do, up and down financially but always remained overly optimistic. Mr. Dumas ‘… died penniless, but hopeful. Saying of death, “I shall tell her a story and she will be kind to me.”
As I write, everything that I write about unfolds with a constant sub-theme. As our tagline in our magazine “Kandavo” clearly states, “It’s about finding truth within fiction.” And lately, I have had a strong interest in learning all about and writing what I can with Historical Fiction. Mr. Dumas once asked “What is history? It is the nail in which I hang my novels”, he replied. Again I can relate.
And though I’m embarrassed to say with making money, I’ve made more money for more people than anyone I know. Yet on a personal level, money was not my god! And, like Mr. Dumas once boasted, “I have never refused money to anybody; except my creditors”, I too can relate all too well to the aforementioned passage. And if I am not careful, I too could die both broke and indigent.
Even my father would preface many a conversation with a joke, like the one— “When those close to you pass, your friends, neighbors and relatives… and they stand in front of St. Peter, just outside the pearly gates. He’s going to ask them one question. And if they get the answer correct, they go right into heaven. Spell the word, Love. Your relatives respond in kind, ‘l-o-v-e’ Correct! You’re in. Next, it’s your friends and neighbors; and you find everyone gets in. Now it’s your turn! This should be easy, you’re thinking… ‘Ok, says St. Peter, I just need you to spell one simple paltry word…’ Ok, let’s have it,” I said. ‘Spell Chrysanthemum…’ Ok, that wasn’t what I was expecting, so I’ve decided, metaphorically speaking, while I’m alive, I need to work on my spelling.
Okay, there may be some similarities, but to even think I may have been Alexandre in a previous life is ridiculous. Just because I once was an extra in an old Michael Keaton movie, and my name was Dumas.
Just because, like Alexandre Dumas, I too epitomize the would-be character in that old colloquial phrase “A fool and his money will soon part ways”.
Just because I told my son about a week ago, I have a calling to learn French. That doesn’t mean I was once a Frenchman named Dumas.
If it were true, it would certainly be both a blessing and a curse. A blessing, that he was a successful writer who led a very exciting life. A curse because I’m British; for an Englishman to go to bed one evening and when he awakens, he’s a Frenchman! Well, let’s just say that would go over like a loud fart in church.
Just because one of my favorite travelers of old, was Giuseppe Garibaldi, an Italian general who sported a flaming red beard and like Alexandre, he had many an adventure (some, or should I say, most were questionable) and many tales to tell (again questionable, with many outlandish embellishments)
Please excuse my digression: Did you know the state fish of California is called the Garibaldi? It’s flaming orange, and thank goodness they recently took it off the endangered species list. By the way, I’m just saying, it’s been my favorite fish for the last fifty years; why is that?
Maybe the only similarity to Dumas, Garibaldi, and others is that I too have an overactive imagination. I could boast of many an adventure with old friends. The problem is that most are still alive. And as a judge once said to me, “Mr. Tanner, maybe you should go to work for the Mafia! At least they know their secrets are safe.” It’s akin to that phrase about ‘What happens in Vegas…
I’ve just gone through life as a Dumb-ass and not a Dumas. Maybe there’s no such thing as reincarnation, maybe, maybe, maybe… who knows? Well, on that note, all I know is that it’s time to go on another adventure.
Fiji anyone?
