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01 Sep 2009 --
-
It must have been such a traumatic experience to have my adolescent
diaries destroyed by my cousin's family's stupidity. Dreamed about it
again. Again, hoping in the dream to find the lost writings. I have no
choice but to observe this bubbling up of the shock to my consciousness
from the betrayal of trust and realization that it's long gone -- my
meticulous writings that meant so much to me are part of the Orange
County Landfill. I am also surprised that this shock has not cleansed
itself -- those writings must have meant a lot to me. Anyway, life goes
on and I trust this will eventually clean up from my consciousness, not
eventually in time, but eventually through the observation of any remaining ripples.
My
name was on the box, they knew how much my writings mean to me, yet,
they destroyed it -- I can guess as to the motives -- but let's just
say, utter stupidity and craziness which is common in Orange County,
specially in Irvine -- the machine life Oriana Fallaci wrote about is
right there -- soul of cars are everywhere but people don't walk in the
streets. Of course there are always exceptions.
In the dream I hoped that I would not wake up so I can find the box.
--------------------------------------------------------
10 July 2009
Another
case of camel dreaming of cotton seed. Dreamed of the destroyed diaries
– this time the box was found at Parand’s – Farid’s sister’s house – a
lovely lady and lovely family – haven’t seen them for ages – but back
then we were close. It was like, Gosh, that’s right, the diaries were
there, in her garage – they were locked and sealed and I was incredibly
thrilled happy joyful ecstatic to have found this biggest lost part of
my life. Only to wake up in disappointment that it was only a dream.
We
have not spoken for ages. I could not handle having any contact with
you guys, as much as I love you all, after my most precious possession
was destroyed by you guys. I know when we last met you denied it -- but
after putting everything Payam and you guys said togerher, plus Mr. S.,
who actually saw the box before it was dumped, there was plenty of
indication that you guys dumped the box. It would not have evaporated
by itself and there is no doubt that it was there -- you had agreed to
hold it for me -- I had not forced you to -- I don't know if there is a
English word for it but in Farsi it is called "amin" and "amanat dary".
The box was an amanat.
Payam said it was dumped because it was
"useless papers and fire hazard". My diaries may be useless to another
person, but these were diaries that initiated the biggest and longest
project of my life -- to write the book of life itself. Now, some 7
years of it is gone. The writings included my meticulously written
accounts of being a 14 year old in Iran, going through a love event,
going through the revolution, writing the many lessons I was learning
from experiences, life itself, from parents, grandparents, and others,
the adventure of the move from Iran to America as a 15 year old,
fitting into a new culture, highschool experiences, moving to
California, having life changing experiences, and all the reflections
and meditations and stories that went along with these and other
events. All gone, except what remains in memory cells as small food for
that long writing project. Useless to Payam, ok. But to say it was a
fire hazard (and I don't dispute that it was) so we dumped without
giving me a chance to take it, is so incredibly lame. One phone call,
one email, one sms, and the box would have been out of there in 10
minutes. I could have called a taxi to come and get it, if not a friend
or a relative. Dump! Thank you.
I am not writing to complain or
chastise you. I did not say a word to you upon my initial anger and
frustration and disappointment and sorrow caused by this act. I just
never contacted you again because there was nothing to say -- nagging
about it or blaming you would not have brought the box back. I just
took a hike and didn't look back. The pain followed me although I tried
to move on and wipe the pain. Last night I had a dream. It hit me in
the head again.It was a sweet dream that turned into a nightmare. As
the first part of that Farsi poem goes, Shotor dar khaab binad panbeh
daaneh. Camel sees cotton seed in dream.
I know this would be
just as unreal as a camel's dream of cotton seed and a long shot in the
dark, but if you happen to have info any info where I could find my
box, or if you have any of the contents, please let me know.
In
the dream, you said it was in another part of the house. I was deeply
sad by the loss and almost in tears. we looked and there was a box -
way on a top shelf - from below I looked - I was sure I had put it
there - I remembered the exact day I put it there (as I did in reality
about the real box) - I could smell the box from that distance that
would take some effort to get to - a ladder or chain and hook that
came...
I was about to get my long lost treasure chest back,
with my little red and little brown, and little black notebooks that I
neatly wrote everything in.
The saddest moment was when I gently woke up and realized it was just a
dream! What a damn pity!
Upon
waking, I thought of calling the dumpster where your bin was taken to -
- but last time I looked it was one massive landfill with absolutely no
hope of recovery. I gave up last time and I should give up now, and I
do - I have no choice.
Having found my long-lost treasure was
just a dream - perhaps merely an echo in the cleansing of the
consciousness of the extreme pain of not only the loss, but the denial
by you guys who were so dear -- you were my dear friends despite being
family, closer than family -- and the utter shock of betrayal of trust,
and having to work so hard to get to the truth, and shattering of a key
piece of that project which sprang in a young passionate heart/mind. I
can not figure out which one of you made the decision to simply dump
this box or that it was a collaborative decision. Certainly it was not
Mr. S., who dumped the box although you tried to blame him for it. This
is all water under the bridge. I am not stuck on any of this -- I lived
through the pain and moved on - or tried to move on as far as I was
able to - and hope this last dream was just a last step in the
cleansing as this thing echoed out of my consciousness.
If you happen to have any idea where it might be, of have any of the
contents, please let me know.
Good wishes to you.
Reza
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