Notes from the Boulevarde...

I'm afraid this isn't going to be one of those encouraging new agey blogs about the value of following your dreams and making all your wishes come true. 

If anything- this is going to be more like a funeral. 

And a funeral is for the family of the dead- and close friends. 

So unless you are a close friend or family member- I KNOW there are many more interesting things on the web than a bloody funeral. 

So here is the eulogy.

I just woke up from a terrible dream. 

I dreamt the film I have been working on for four years- a film I put all my time, savings, hopes & dreams into- was put into the hands of a friend I have just had a terrible falling out with.

It was an ugly ending to a difficult friendship. 

Sadly, she has been consumed by the Hollywood thing, which drained her of her very soul.

It happens.  It, too, is the dark side of the dream. 

But this is not about her- it is about me. 

& add insult to the injury- the wound made by the loss of her friendship- she took my film, and cut the guts out of it, until it ran no more than a minute and a half. 

It is...was...supposed to be a feature.

It was at that moment...I realised the dream was over. 

Before the actual dream was over.

You often hear stories of people's dreams coming true.

You hear less about those dreams that do not. 

Probably for good reason; because no one would watch the show. 

Who wants to hear the truth?  That not ALL dreams come true, no matter how star-spangled and worthwhile, ground breaking and earthshattering they might seem at the outset?

Which brings me back to the original purpose of this blog.

I actually think dreams are like a funeral. 

An official way for the soul to let go of something.

Life is about learning to let go of things every day...

In preparation for our eventual death.

At some point...even 'dreams' need to be released when they have failed.

And our actual, physical dreams help us to do that.

I thought it was fascinating it was a lost friend who took the film, and helped me bury it, by cutting the guts out of it.

And by doing so...she helped me bury her. 

Two funerals for the price of one. 

So now?  Now what do I do?

I do what any mourner does. 

I either die of grief (& believe me...I have been doing than inside where people cannot see for almost a year.)

Or I shake it off, and move on.

How?

Hey, I didn't invent grief.  Hundreds, thousands of people every day are grieving over something.

I do what they do. 

I move on.

somehow.

The dream is now officially over.

& like Van Halen said...

'dream another dream.  this dream is over...'