|Notre reve, votre reve|
The majority of my inspiration comes at night. It seems almost funny, or ironic (if that is possible) that the night, which was once my least favorite time of the day, has become a part of me. I guess I am a nighttime person, not in the way that most people think. I like the silence of night - I hate it when people make noise all night. I just like to listen to the sounds of my heartbeat, the sounds of the wind in the trees or the strange fullness the stars give to the nighttime air. It's not a noticeably audible thing, but yet there is a fullness in the air that only comes from the stars. The night is not entirely empty.
At night, my dreams usually seem much more clearer and crisper. I am alone with myself and no one is there to interfere. I get this feeling, too, when I am playing music and I am alone, on the piano in a solitary room, or when I am in a dark and quiet place the garage. I like the darkness as much as I like the night. There's something beautiful to me about darkness, about black. Western society has a tendency to place negative connotations on black and make white as sort of the 'good' (possibly from religious standpoints) - yin and yang.
In reality, the nighttime darkness is to me, the color of deep expression. It's the color of understanding and possibility, endless knowledge. There is nothing definable about black - it goes on and on, just like human knowledge. I don't wear black as much as I like to look at it, mostly because I don't like the majority of black clothes (they're too dead - it has to be truly beautiful...), and also because it makes me look ghastly and goth.
And what is also funny is I don't think in black-and-white. I think in color. I love color. I hate people who don't like color or people who seem to have a problem with color. Not in the way where it is a preference but when people actually have some kind of aversion to color - such as red. I won't say who it is exactly, but it's a rather 'traditional' environment. My dreams are actually colorful. It's one of the things I notice a lot when I awaken from a dream - the colors. How are they used? What do they mean to me? Where are they in my dream? I remember one dream I had, there were colors everywhere, in graffiti like patterns. Black swirls, red splotches, purple drips. But the most dominant was purple, black, and white. I know that. I wonder what it meant?