Να Σημανουν την Ανασταση

Να Σημανουν την Ανασταση -- Let Them Ring In The Resurrection.

From 1967-1974 Greece, the birthplace of Democracy, was under a strict dictatorship. People were randomly imprisoned for belief that they were communists or lefties, the country was under rule by a military run, ultra conservative dictatorship. The entire country suffered.

In 1950 my dad was born, in 1968, a year after the start of this rule, he started college. The years get fuzzy for me at this point, but he eventually got his bachelors and started an uprising against the dictatorship at his university. He then spent some number of years in jail, and once the government collapsed in 1974, ran off to the US.

This has been a fact about my father I've known for over six years, but until yesterday, failed to actually research the surrounding events or ask him about it. Now, I'm starting to read the history, and realize that my father was involved in something much larger than history books give it credit for. This strengthens my pride for him, and my resolve to question him further about his experiences next time I visit him in Sweden.

Imagine that, I am so closely tied to a true revolutionary, and didn't even know it..

Telling Dreams

I had a dream last night so curious that it's prompted my return to the blogosphere. Names and nicknames have been avoided to protect the guilty.

"They" were making a movie about his life, and asked me to audition. And so I did, and I was landed with the role of playing him, the main star, the big cheese, etc etc. My life suddenly revolved around preparing for this role, imitating and becoming him.

He taught me his mannerisms and habits, and his catch phrases and slang, and I slowly picked them up, applying them to my life in an effort to understand his character better. My body was changed, slowly- I lost weight, my skin tone was changed gradually, my hair dyed, implants here and reductions there until my face mostly resembled his. In excruciatingly realistic perception, he tattooed replicas of his tattoos onto me, and I drove the needle through various extremities to match his piercings- well, those that I could match, anyways.

We associated more and more as I changed into his character, and I saw less and less of my life before, my friends, my family, my house, everything. Finally, we were ready to begin shooting the movie.

In a cinematic sweep (my subconscious, apparently, does cinematic sweeps), my perception swooped in on two dark figures standing close on the corner of a movie set. We stood like twins and lovers, I had become a beautiful, small, female mirror to him. He leaned in towards me and my dream became excruciatingly vivid as I observed the lines on his face, the movement of his eyes, half lidded, the hairs on my cheek raising with each of his exhales. I could smell his scent, a soft musk and a particular brand of shampoo, and his breath, like clove spiced rice. He said in a very soft and husky voice, "you know, I love you like this."

And for a moment, I was rushed with desire and delight, closely followed by their sister, despair, as I reveled in what I had gained, and realized all I had sacrificed for it.

I then experienced another emotion: a sour mood as my alarm clock went off and I rose, astounded by the implications of my dream. Every once and a while, a dream comes along that affects my perception of the situations around me. In this case, it flaunted what I already knew.