I died last night. Not for real. I died in a dream. Yet, it felt so real. The dying part. You know how it is. You die – and you wake up. I woke up—and somehow, today, I see everything in a completely new light. I am dreaming about seeing myself running through a large room, through sliding doors out to a large balcony, surrounded by warmth and lush tropical plants—and the thrilling atmosphere of joy and bliss from every side.
The sun—endless sun—sparkling like diamonds on the blue water, the sky, the Mediterranean Sea. What could be more beautiful? I try to imagine myself walking these streets, among the houses and flowers, on the beaches, in the shops, among the people. Whether in sun or cloud, looking at the sea or the mountains, in warmth or coolness—it all seems wonderful.
The scent of huge lilac flowers, with inflorescences like small balloons, wraps around me. I even like this iridescent sky, patterned in whitish-gray clouds. I walk easily to my car, drive home, and it feels like I’ve just returned from my magical journey. Here in Los Angeles, everything feels different—fresh, renewed.
Suddenly, I notice trees and palms I’ve passed dozens of times without seeing. My road leads north, and in the distance, I spot the hills of Topanga. Unnoticed, I silently appreciate and overflow with gratitude for living in Los Angeles—a city so often “complained” about, even by those who love it deeply. Los Angeles has its flaws, but it also holds many virtues we overlook. And yet, we grumble about not living in Paris or Alanya.
“WE don’t choose the time we live in. We live through the time, and we die in it… There is no greater vulgarity than begging and grumbling to live in another time…” The place we live isn’t as fixed as time itself, but still. How blind must one be not to notice the beauty around them in a city like Los Angeles?
I could name a million reasons why even in Los Angeles, you might long for a Mediterranean breeze, you might long for a Mediterranean breeze. But that’s not the point. The point is how often, to be happy, you just need to open your eyes.
We have so much—endless, abundant everything. Air, sky, flowers, scents, hot showers, delicious food, fluffy blankets, wonderful music. Not to mention the magical people around us. We have opportunities, time, desires. All of this is wonderful and inspiring. Yet we drag our lives past these magical, incredible, even unique little things, all while dreaming that someday we’ll start living.
But life is now. How many times must we remind ourselves?
I just stroked the silky barrel of my furry friend. She didn’t flinch, as usual, nor say “meow?” But after the caress, she lifted her sleepy face and smiled. This moment—this life—is beautiful. Rain outside is beautiful. Clean fresh water is beautiful. The ability to breathe is beautiful.
I realized how much I love life and want to live. How grateful I am for breathing, for this opportunity to enjoy the process. And everything else I have—I won’t even mention. To live in such a beautiful place, one of the best on the planet, to express myself in countless ways! To have all my limbs, all my senses intact! To play, perform, work, create, befriend, love, give.
How royally we rob ourselves, letting all this slip through our fingers like sand in search of gold bars. But the gold is the sand. The bars often turn out to be ordinary cobblestones.
Last night I died in a dream. This morning, I was reborn—in a dream and in reality. I am tearfully grateful to life for being alive. For the fact that life and I are one and the same, that I am still here and able.
I can do anything. I can change everything. Or simply be—without revolutions or rebellions—just part of life. This alone is an infinite gift. From now on, it is the most valuable thing I have. And it alone is capable of making me infinitely happy.
Sometimes you need to die (even if it’s just in a dream) to understand how much you are alive.
