urban_memories [the unfinished polaroids]

Sunday, November 04, 2007

It's my party and I'll cry if I want to. [Moon Over Scorpio]

Confused / Nov.4.2007 / Montréal, Qc / Canon Eos Digital Rebel XTi

Why do we, Scorpios, always get depressed on our birthdays?
I am 30 years old today.

I had a bad dream last night. I rarely have nightmares, because I usually control my dreams. I have been told many times by my friends, that this was almost impossible to do, and that it is freaky that I can do so. But I promise you I can.
I can just imagine a scene, sleep, dream about it, and wake up the next day in full content mode. I remember every detail of the scene, and I remember that I dreamed it. I dream in color and sound also.

Last night I had a bad dream. I was running and I was hiding. I woke up, looked at wife's angelic face seeking help... she was sleeping. I closed my eyes again, and I continued running. I was all alone.
After hours of running and ducking all around the city, I ended up hiding in the attic, in my old parents' house in Beirut. My aggressors were looking for me in the house. Thank God the house was empty, and they were not able to harm my parents. I was defending the fort on my own.
I waited until my attackers went into my old room, and from the attic, I closed my eyes and threw in a grenade. Right into my old room. Right into my memories. It fucking tore me apart, but I had to do it. I had to do it you see, they were talking and threatening that they were going to kill everySOUL I loved. So instead, I preferred to destroy them along with everyTHING I loved, and I had once owned. Every memory, and everything that has ever made me smile.

The fatality of the story is that it was all for nothing. In my dream, I was being accused of something I had not done. I was innocent. The system was so corrupt and absurd, that there was no use explaining to them that I had nothing to do with what they were accusing me of. There was nowhere for me to plead my case. I was a criminal by designation, and I had to run. I was forced to fight for my life.
To save my life, I had to destroy my past. I blew it all up with a fucking grenade.

I miss my parents. I miss my old house. I miss my Beirut.
I decided that I should go back home for Christmas. Back to the old memories I blew up when I left.
I am 30 years old today.

Labels: birthday, delirium, khawater, memories_ nostalgia, ramblings

Saturday, May 12, 2007

To Tracy.

It' s a strange feeling when you witness the birh of the next generation in your family... We are embarking on the next stage of parenthood... we aren't "the kids" anymore.
Here's the newest addition to my extended family, the first in the generation next:

I proudly present to you Miss. Tracy F.