June 20th, 2009

"For Tomorrow's Children"

Anonymous Iranian woman, via The Spirit of Man:

http://thespiritofman.blogspot.com/2009/06/i-may-die.html

I'll participate in the rally tomorrow in Tehran. It might be violent. I may be one of those who will die tomorrow. I want to listen to all beautiful tunes that I have heard in my life, again. I want to listen to some cheap Los Angeles made Iranian music. I always wanted to have much narrower eyebrows too. Yeah, I'll check in with my hair-dresser tomorrow before I go to the rally. Oh, there are some excellent scenes in the famous Iranian movie Hamoon I want to see before I leave. And I gotta re-visit my own bookshelf. Iran's poets Shamloo's and Farrokhzad's poems are worth re-reading. I've to see the family photo albums once again.

I'll have to call my friends and say good-bye to them. In this big world, my possession is only two bookshelves. I've already told mom and dad whom to give these books to in case I never come back. There are only two more courses left for me to get my BA degree but to hell with the degree. I'm anxious and excited.

I wrote these scattered words for the future generations so that they know we were not sentimental or uselessly emotional. I'm writing this so they know we did every thing in our power to make this work for them and so that they realize if our forefathers surrendered to the Arab and Mongolian invaders physically, but they didn't give in to their tyranny with their spirits. They resisted it. And I wrote this for tomorrow's children...

Dare to dream!

I keep thinking about this dream that I posted a while back in LJ:

http://asher63.livejournal.com/184959.html

I'm in a MacDonald's in Tehran. By chance, I look up and see - either directly through the window, or reflected in the glass - a familiar figure: the scruffy beard, the cruel, arrogant smile, and the famous eponymous dinner jacket. He's surrounded by officials and bodyguards and he appears to be sitting down to a meeting in a neighboring building.

"He's here! Everybody get down!" somebody shouts in English (or else I can understand Farsi). Everyone in the restaurant dives under the tables. I steal a peek out the window in time to see a blinding flash, followed by a series of ear-splitting booms. Glass and overturned tables are everywhere, but people are cheering. Then there's the sound of sirens, but it's all over.


Best. Dream. EVER.