I have long since suspected that the soul is capable of living numerous lifetimes with the possibility that the trauma of having died once or twice before is so burrowed away that in this life, you’ll probably never know what happened. But you’ll know, eventually, that you lived.
It just sounds like stoner-babble right now, but think about it.
Have you ever felt at home in a place you’ve never been? Or maybe, just maybe, you’ve heard a piece of music for the first time (and you’re sure of it) but it sounds so familiar and it just makes you so happy, but you don’t know why? Perhaps you’ve seen a film and something in it reminded you of something. But you’re not sure what it is.
I’ve had some strange dreams in my time, but so many people say they’re not worth anything. Just a product of your subconscious mind. They really have no purpose. But have you ever brushed elbows with someone who has passed on, in a dream? Or lived in another time, another home, somewhere else, anywhere else - a dream in a setting that is otherwise unfamiliar to you, but you’re not lost. And you’re not worried.
And it just makes you wonder.
In this life I have felt that I don’t fit in anywhere, because I’m unusual. What draws my attention is so radically different. The things that I delight in are rather unusual as well. But I’ve never felt more at home than when I’m drinking out of a dainty antique tea cup, and I’ve never felt more alive than when I’m in the sun, or opening a brand new record. I feel a sense of belonging when I see vintage concert footage and ramble on about musicians who are long passed, as if I lived during their prime.
… But died with their decade.
Sometimes I just really wonder.
Has anyone else felt this way?
Who was more beautiful: Russell Mael or Marc Bolan?