Vihaan Week 1 - Fever Dream
Yesterday, on August the 24th, I had a bad day. I felt the weight of loneliness and being unseen, because I felt that nobody understood me as well as I wanted them to. However, something very interesting happened to me that night.
When I close my eyes at night, at first, there’s nothing. All I can sense is the soft hum of the air conditioning, the satisfying yet foreshadowing scent of pen ink and textbook pages, and the feel of my retainers forcing my teeth to go back into their original position.
Then, completely naturally, all of it fades away as sleep starts to crawl in. In most people’s dreams, you would see the most utterly random things. One of which could be a donut with a lasso riding a unicycle trying to chase you down because you took a bite out of its friend. In the land of dreams, nothing is bound by the chains of reality.
That night, I was lying in bed, that familiar feeling of relaxation settled in around me. I didn’t see any nonsense that a regular dream would have. I saw a hall adorned with snapshots, little paintings that captured moments. The hall was ethereal, with a candescent glow that softened the tones of everything it touched.
Some of the things I saw that night I hadn’t seen in years, but I still at least vaguely remembered them as their significance came rushing back to me in that instant. I saw my favorite toy as a baby, a little shaker with balls in it; I saw a stuffed dog, whose name was Memphis, that I slept with until age ten; I saw my first badminton racket that costed $20 that was shipped all the way from India; I even saw a memory of the first time I ever took a guitar lesson.
I kept walking along the corridor, with no end in sight. As I continued my trek, I saw myself in middle school, struggling to make friends because I had the most god awful style you’ve probably ever seen. I saw those same people, somehow, form incredible friendships with me that I can’t imagine living without now. I saw countless things that I cannot, and will not, describe to you for the sake of time.
In the span of those eight hours, I saw my struggles, my achievements, my relationships with other people, my hopes for the future, but mainly, I saw who I was. This peculiar event wasn’t something that completely changed my perspective on life, or something dramatic like that. Instead, it simply revealed to me the things that make me who I am today, good and bad, in a time when most people find themselves losing their authenticity.
The dream I had isn’t the important takeaway here. What’s important is that your identity, as exemplified by my dream, isn’t what you project outward to other people. It is quite literally the opposite; it’s what others cannot take away from you.
When I close my eyes at night, at first, there’s nothing. All I can sense is the soft hum of the air conditioning, the satisfying yet foreshadowing scent of pen ink and textbook pages, and the feel of my retainers forcing my teeth to go back into their original position.
Then, completely naturally, all of it fades away as sleep starts to crawl in. In most people’s dreams, you would see the most utterly random things. One of which could be a donut with a lasso riding a unicycle trying to chase you down because you took a bite out of its friend. In the land of dreams, nothing is bound by the chains of reality.
That night, I was lying in bed, that familiar feeling of relaxation settled in around me. I didn’t see any nonsense that a regular dream would have. I saw a hall adorned with snapshots, little paintings that captured moments. The hall was ethereal, with a candescent glow that softened the tones of everything it touched.
Some of the things I saw that night I hadn’t seen in years, but I still at least vaguely remembered them as their significance came rushing back to me in that instant. I saw my favorite toy as a baby, a little shaker with balls in it; I saw a stuffed dog, whose name was Memphis, that I slept with until age ten; I saw my first badminton racket that costed $20 that was shipped all the way from India; I even saw a memory of the first time I ever took a guitar lesson.
I kept walking along the corridor, with no end in sight. As I continued my trek, I saw myself in middle school, struggling to make friends because I had the most god awful style you’ve probably ever seen. I saw those same people, somehow, form incredible friendships with me that I can’t imagine living without now. I saw countless things that I cannot, and will not, describe to you for the sake of time.
In the span of those eight hours, I saw my struggles, my achievements, my relationships with other people, my hopes for the future, but mainly, I saw who I was. This peculiar event wasn’t something that completely changed my perspective on life, or something dramatic like that. Instead, it simply revealed to me the things that make me who I am today, good and bad, in a time when most people find themselves losing their authenticity.
The dream I had isn’t the important takeaway here. What’s important is that your identity, as exemplified by my dream, isn’t what you project outward to other people. It is quite literally the opposite; it’s what others cannot take away from you.
Hi Vihaan! I’m sorry to hear about your bad day on the 24th. I hope that, through writing this blog on identity, you were able to sort out feelings of loneliness and feel better! On that note, I found your post to be extremely wise and penetrating to the true nature of identity. Your final insight that our identities are not what we present on the outside, but rather the memories and experiences that we built up throughout our lives, had me rethinking my entire perception on identity. Before I had put any thought into this subject, I had simply and carelessly associated identity with one’s personality and their concrete features like age, occupation, ethnicity, and more. Your blog illuminates the true depth of identity. It’s not just our personalities, but rather every single event, memory, and philosophy that subtly but surely influenced our personalities to be what it is today. This helped me really see the fluid and ever-changing nature of our identities.
ReplyDeleteYour post reminds me of the paradox of the Ship of Theseus. The paradox asks, if the old wooden boards of Theseus’s ship are replaced with new ones one by one, is it still the ship of Theseus when everything is new? I think that replacing old wooden boards with new ones symbolizes us gaining new experiences while our older memories fade or get distorted. Obviously, you are still you even as years pass by, but this paradox seems to relate to your perspective of identity.
Also, this might be a bit unrelated, but I’m seriously surprised that you managed to remember so many details of your dream! I probably would have forgotten everything the moment I woke up. I really like all of the sensory and descriptive details you added in the beginning, especially the part about being chased by a donut. Thank you for your simultaneously funny, vivid, and profound blog, Vihaan!
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ReplyDeleteHi Vihaan! Upon reading your blog, the first thing I noticed was the descriptive imagery you used, especially when describing the scent of pen ink and textbook pages (which is all too familiar now as a high schooler), and all of your fondest memories. It completely immersed me in your writing, and I couldn’t help but think of my own childhood memories while listening to yours. One second I was doing my commentary homework, and the next I was getting ready for my first day of volleyball practice wearing something I would now laugh at, or going to bed after a long night of studying that only left me more confused, as my textbook and study materials remain laid out all over my desk. The experiences you recalled–having a favorite toy, playing a sport or instrument for the first time, even having an awkward middle school phase–felt all too familiar. In a daunting new environment such as AP ENG 11, it is comforting to hear things that make me realize I am not completely alone, it only feels that way since the new school year has just begun. I love how you mentioned that the corridor had “no end in sight,” as a subtle way of saying that there are many more identity-shaping experiences you are yet to have. The fluidity of our identities truly is comforting. Lastly, your blog has a beautiful way of opening with concern and ending with solution. Perhaps you do not need to feel perfectly understood by everyone, especially when you understand yourself without saying a single word. I hope I have a dream that is as insightful as yours was, rather than the nonsense ones I usually have about living in Roblox or being a professional boxer, and I hope that we make many new memories as a class so that one day in the future, there will be a permanent place in everyone’s corridor for AP ENG 11, Period 3, with Mrs. Smith.
ReplyDeleteHi Vihaan! I really enjoyed reading your blog, especially the way you used descriptive imagery to make the dream feel real. The details about your stuffed dog, badminton racket, and childhood memories made the hallway feel personal and showed how even small moments can shape who we become.
ReplyDeleteI also really liked your use of the hallway as a metaphor. The fact that it had “no end in sight” shows how our identities are always changing as we experience new things. I thought this was an effective rhetorical choice because it made your idea easier to understand without you having to directly explain it.
My favorite part was probably the ending because it reminded me that who we are is more than just how other people see us. I also liked how you mixed humor, like the donut part, with a deeper message about identity. It made the blog more interesting and honestly gave me something to think about afterward
Hi Vihaan, I’m sorry you felt unseen and misunderstood; I understand how challenging that can be, and remember that you are never alone! I found lots of interesting things within your blog. For example, the fact that you were able to have even one insightful dream at such a perfect timing is shocking to me. I only dream about silly things, such as living as a cockroach at a pizza place and sprinting as fast as I can with my six insect legs.
ReplyDeleteAsides from that, I love how vividly you were able to portray your dream; I felt completely immersed in a nostalgic feeling along with a warm and fuzzy light beaming from an unexplainable source. Through your memories from your favorite toy as a baby to your experience and struggles in middle school, you reminded me of how important our experiences are to us— allowing me to reflect on mine. Just like you, I had a favorite childhood toy which was a Beanie Babies monkey plush, however I would change her name every time I see her. Additionally, I remembered my awkward middle school moments where I wouldn’t know the appropriate responses to comments, so I just ended up seeming weird. Although I felt embarrassed recalling the person I was before high school, the ending to your writing made everything feel okay. Your ending was worded wonderfully and made me realize that identity is not set in stone, and that I am in control of myself. So, thank you for taking your time to write such a blog, truly!