1970, 25, November, an internationally acclaimed Japanese writer died.
At the very end of his life, he realised his “ultimate dream”.
“Dream” can have various meanings and scale.
But if it’s “ultimate” one, it must have extremely strong effects and meanings over one’s life.
In this way, it’s understandable that one cannot hold such burden of the dream.
When he realised his ultimate dream, he died.
To be more accurate, it was when his dream came true that his life was taken away.
His “ultimate dream” was committing suicide.
He had been dreaming of suicide since his childhood. And when he reached the age of 45, he executed.
I cannot imagine more fulfilling life than his.
Because he could avoid “absolute boredom” that always comes up after we realise a dream.
It’s ironical nature of “dream” that we slip into boredom from exactly when we realise it.
A sense of contentment disappears.
A sense of well being starts rotting.
Always “process” gives us more satisfaction than “result”.
Perhaps some humanistic people would insist that it was his weakness that he couldn’t accept such decline of a sense of well being, that it’s his fragility that he could not set up the next dream to realise.
But it was his “ultimate dream”.
I’m sure that it’s not worth living for him after his ultimate dream came true.
And at ay rare, to live long, to hope a long life, try to live as long as possible…, all is too vulgar notion.
It did not make any sense to him that he would feel boredom and miserable from the result of realising a dream.
It was not bearable and acceptable for him that “dream” contains such negative qualities.
The more I think about his life, the more I become sure that a dream which brings us to death is a real one, and suicide is one and only dream.
Because it never leaves us slightest sense of disappointment.