Heather knows me better than I know myself. Or, rather, she remembers some of me that I seem to have forgotten. She got me more than a few movies for Christmas, and I have to admit I was surprised by the titles. In particular, What Dreams May Come (1998). I watched it last night though, and, as I told her, I really enjoyed it more watching it for the second time (years after my first) than I remember upon the first viewing. As I was watching the movie, though it won an academy award for visual effects, I kept thinking to myself that watching this movie is really just trying to watch a metaphor. Though the visual s were stunning – it wasn’t the sights that made the most impact on me last night. It was the writing, nay it was the thing that the writing was pointing to that resonated with me so well. The movie would have had equal effect if I could have only heard the dialog and not seen the pictures — possibly even more impact. What struck me is that there have been parts of me that I used to identify with so well that I’ve let atrophy over recent years. And I’m ashamed for it. I like or liked) those parts and I’d hope to find them or develop new ones in a similar vein. I’ve got more thinking to do on this subject. Much, much more.