Saturday, March 5, 2016

It's a Kind of Magic

Last night I dreamed about my cat, who passed away in September of last year. In the dream, he was as I remembered him, but smaller and in better health, without his asthma. I was overjoyed that he was back, and times were good.

But dreams are fleeting; they cannot last. The world was as it was. It would be nice to believe it was a message from beyond, a love note to let me know he is doing well and would see me again. That would require belief in things not explainable by science, unproven by the facts, and supported only loosely on spiritual ideas that are at best from the realm of philosophers and at worst the notions of madmen and con artists.

I would like to believe in magic, but it's hard not to think about the sleight of hand.

As America approaches electing a vain, short-tempered, delusional reality show star with a tenuous grasp on reality to be in control of the military (and the nuclear launch codes), maybe I'll find out soon enough what's on the other side. Before I do, I would be hesitant not to acknowledge that Highlander, the cult 80s classic about immortals who fight each other with swords trying to decapitate each other and be the last one to survive, turns 30 years old on Monday, the 7th of March. It has its flaws for sure, but it's a really fun movie with the right state of mind, as explained here (although I am aflutter with Lambert's performance, which made me believe he was a good actor for years longer than I should have). Considering I have evolved over the years into ostentatious film snob, it might seem odd that I love this low budget science fiction fantasy adventure (and the 80s had a lot of them), but we all have that soft spot for that one movie that hits all the right notes for you.

Thinking about watching Highlander 30 years after it hit theaters has raised my spirits. No matter how much we've lost and how much we will lose, the best advice is still - don't lose your head.

1 comment:

Gorilla Bananas said...

Nice that you dreamt about your cat. I really hope he's in a better place, where cats eat and play without killing anything. I can think of many better places for the raccoon pelt on Donald Trump's head.