I Dreamed Of A Tiger


The other night, I had a dream. In the dream I was alone in a dense jungle and I could feel in my chest and in my mind the fear of knowing that I was being stalked, hunted. As I tread deeper within the trees I was finally attacked by my invisible dread, a beautiful young tiger that had no desire to kill me at all; only to play. It scratched and bit and pushed me around a lot, but as she would do a friend or a partner. The tiger was in love with me.

Painting by Salvador Dali
Dream Caused by the Flight of a Bee around a Pomegranate, a Second before Waking Up by Salvador Dali

I wanted to share this dream not because of how amazingly grandiose or surreal it was. On the contrary, it was a very typical dream. I just wanted to share it for the sheer sake of sharing something completely ME online, which I think is still a rarity for us all.

Everyday I read posts from friends and strangers alike that shed light on their lives. Their everyday lives, their sex life, their ambitions, their haters and, of course, their opinions. Each post, a quick little peek at the personas we all wear for the sake of a standard called “normality.” We all think we’re so unique and clever and thoughtful and edgy when in reality we use the internet to amplify our flatness. The things I see online seem the same glimpses of your life I would witness in real life, only on a quicker and larger scale.

Same shit, different day. Même merde, jour différent.

If Millenials want to be seen as something new and miraculous, we’ll have to use our gifts and our tools to say and do things that were impossible for our parents and grandparents to do. Ingrained into our cultural fabric there seems to be a standard for how we communicate with each other and it seems a fabric based entirely too much on grasping, reaching, yelling into the void. We can’t just do these things exponentially FASTER or LARGER and expect to rush toward a new way of living. We must try to be different; we must move very slowly when everyone and everything around us wants us to rush. We must try whispering into the void; telling the unknown about the universe that lives within us, the one that only you can visit.

In a time where you can post a picture of a corpse or a video of strangers fucking or footage of some poor victim being killed, share your dreams. Rarely do I see something as simple as a dream shared. Is it a boundary that we still can’t cross?

Is it because dreams are intimate and often unexplainable, even to the dreamer? is it because they hold pieces of the true face that we don’t want others to judge? Is it just that dreams are silly and unimportant, too dull of a topic to get enough likes and retweets? I don’t know. I just wanted to say all of this to make sure that you all know that there is still so much YOU to offer this world that seems to be diluted with personality and branding. I’d much rather hear about the dream you had last night than the NETFLIX show you watched as your eyelids grew heavy.

Carl Jung believed that, in our minds’ quest for wholeness, our dreams do the work of integrating our conscious and unconscious lives. If you really wanna wake people up, share your dreams with them. The key to the next persons imagination may just lie within your dream, waiting to be shared with the world.

Still of a film by Andy Warhol titled “Sleep”