I need new glasses. I’ve been writing and reading and keeping notes on my mental wellbeing and it turns out perhaps I’ve been trying to see a little too clearly. It’s been giving me headaches. The optometrist says it just is too much effort and my eyes become tired.
Really, it should be like gazing into a pond, when you glance into your own psyche. Maybe you need that obscurity, that comfort. Perhaps that’s why dreams are the way they are, desires and fears coming at you obliquely, like sideways rain against the window, running down the glass obscuring the view. You know what’s on the other side, in your heart of hearts, you know what you would see. My dreams lately are all about travel. They’re about travelling for roller derby or travelling to go away to university or travelling with a family group or with work. I had a weird one the other night in which I joined a pre-industrial community around the corner from my childhood home on a clandestine exodus from a muddy hill fort. The smallest children rode wagons and the mud was thick, it sucked at the wheels and at my boots. We left the wooden fort locked and empty but on arrival at our destination I turned around and went back, past our own wagon tracks in the mud. Sometimes life is like that, sometimes no matter how hard you work to get somewhere you find yourself back where you started.
But to see it all in 3D you need to take a step back and squint slightly, let your eyes blur, let the muscles relax. Stop trying to see the past and the present and the future, creating a infinite, high-definition diorama of all possible realities. No one can do that. You’re giving yourself headaches.