Whither Thou, Mr. Mendez?

So I realize that this blog might make me seem insane, and also that I've been watching a lot of "Heroes" lately (only Season One! Don't spoil me!), but the fact remains that I have a big doozie of a mental and spiritual conspiracy theory in my head.

Mind you, I'm neither drunk nor high.

But like, there has been so much stuff, my whole life that I've just *seen.* Not necessarily literally. But I've had a hell of a lot of dreams come true; my big thing has always been dreaming about plane crashes right before they happen. And all through my life, I will have moments of de ja vu that aren't de ja vu. They're real, honest-to-goodness, "rehappenings," whether from real life or a dream.

And it doesn't matter how many insanely detailed incidents I can recall from my entire childhood -- I still sound crazy. I realize this.

But you know how on "Heroes," how it's all very annoying how they can't get over themselves enough to band together and win? And you want to just shake them! ESPECIALLY when you realize that Isaac didn't have to die, dammit!!! If any one of these people could stop fighting their calling, they could do so much!

I wonder sometimes if that is how real life is. Not that I can fly (YET) or anything, but I do firmly believe in the idea of the more childlike a person is, the more he or she can see, can know. That's why I'll never poo-poo my hypothetical kids if they ever adamantly maintain that they see a monster. Maybe it is a monster, maybe it isn't. But they see SOMEthing.

I see SOMEthing. I'm just not sure what to do about it yet, so it's scary, like the cave in The Stand. I'm braving the gaseous, bloated heads because I have to believe that there is a light at the end. If I didn't believe that, I could just hang back, where the only option is certain death.

The thing is, the only option IS certain death. Heath Ledger's been dead for two hours and already there is a crowd outside his apartment. Already people are joking, and already someone posted a penis when you click -- you know what, I'm not telling y'all, 'cause I'm not encouraging this. But suffice it to say, a man is dead, and people are acting like buffoons.

Why?

Basically, this is me figuring out the dream.

To be honest, I kind of already knew the dream, but I had to dream it in order to understand it. You follow? It's much easier for me to wrap my brain around the theoretical when I have imagery to go along with it.

So I've figured out the dream, but now the question is where to go from here. What to do. The only other option is to go back to the basement and stick my head in the sand and...well, mix metaphors apparently, but more than that, wait to die.

Because we're all going to. Die. Yes, that's morbid. Life by its very nature and definition is morbid. But what if there's something -- something more. Something to do. And what if the only people who can see that are people who let themselves to begin with, and how many more of those lose their minds?

I believe it's because they're too close. We're too close. To something.

In a good way.





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