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”




This year has been one of tremendous growth for me. I’ve had so many opportunities to realign my ideal self with my real self and it’s been tough but I know that I am becoming. In past years, I’ve always had a hard time during the cold holiday season, growing distant isolated and, most of all, disgusted by the way we as Americans celebrate Christmas.

But this year that isn’t the case. I’ve made peace with the mass consumerism and shopping mall zombies. I understand the need to rejoice for the Christ is born, even if the date is a bit off. I can relate to the fat man in a red velvet suit and a big bag of gifts flying a reindeer sleigh through the air parking on your roof and coming down your chimn — okay, the Santa Clause thing is still a bit weird…

But the point is, I’ve become more understanding of why we, as human beings, must tell ourselves these fantastic stories to come together. Every year is tough, with the positivity of January 1st slowly circling the drain, washing away the high hopes that we all had for a better year than the last, when in reality requires that most of us fail to achieve everything we wanted. When that reality starts to set in, most of us just want to escape into the little bit of refuge that we can find. We want to escape into each other.

Rather that escape be into the joyful innocence of our children as they smile in surprise, the pure and eternal love from our savior (You the man…er baby, Jesus!), or the chance to cop that television you really wanted we all just want a reason to continue, when deep down we know that next year will be the same as last. We’re all just trying to find a fire to warm ourselves beside, if only for a little while.

In past years, I was disillusioned and disgusted by the holiday season. This year, I’m still aware of the absurdity of it all but now I can smile at it. The only difference is my capacity for compassion.

Oh and plus my girlfriend bought me this really dope bluetooth speaker that I’m using right now to listen to some Miles Davis. That helps too.

Merry Christmas, Miles
Merry Christmas, Miles


Merry Christmas,