Complete dillusion, to start, loose every inhibition, let go, every part, dissolve every fear, until you are one. One with the rain, and one with the snow, one with the sun, and one, complete and all. Hold on to happiness, and lost in the flow. Fall with the loneliness and lost with it all. Break through every compromisable thought, with a resolution to fall. And fight every memory, minute and minute from your soul.
The deep, mesmerizing, dull and continuous hum of the fan resonates overhead causing you to fall, fall deep, deep under its spell. You are captivated, your mind creates images, repeating, drifting, augmenting. A tree stands in a field, crossed with the memory of your childhood house. Blue, red, orange, green. Emotions no longer speak to you in a mundane sense of reality, in this world; you are their creation, compelled to their bedding. They need no contexts, or concept, as they rule the energies of your subconscious and therefore are true. Deep within the darkest torment of the soul, they sway and create image, thoughts, seemingly regurgitate and answer every word you ever said.
The distant passion reverberates through your soul, into the conscious unconscious, or the unconscious conscious. Your ship heads of at the horizon, into a new ocean, a new world, a new dream. Here the seeds of dreams are found among the waves of past, present, future – dreams whether from your distance reality or the empty void of the dillusion. Set sail, as this dream is your last, your last breath of real fresh air, your last breath of the nurturing life giving energy of the world, or at least the world as you know it.
You’re chasing down a dream that is ‘just over the horizon’ – rolling through your mind at the same pace as the painfully slow rhythm of the sway of the vessel of your transport. The planks you stand on ache with the sentiment of existence, decrepit and yet strangely familiar, every notch recreating the feeling of each tedious detail of your life, each warp and split, the people you have met, (or are about to meet?). You see faces of your past. Someone tells you that you’ve been here before. Commentary is commonplace in the land where, to chase one’s dreams is one’s existence.
You’re lost. The car feels cold. Where are you? Everyone has disappeared, the driver, the passengers, yet you still move within, the rhythm of your existence towards the horizon, remember your journey... Without the driver you have no sense of direction, no guide, no light, no dark – no variables – a sudden, sudden shock.
“As you fall, fear. As you fly, wonder. As you scream, silence. And as you drift, loneliness. As you search further, failure. You know this dream repeats, again, over and over, falling, flying, falling, finding, failing, flying, wondering, fearing, falling, helping, longing, hoping.”
Your lost, the sand burns your feet, but you are looking for someone, someone you have to meet, somewhere, sometime, somehow. You don’t care for direction any more, or details, as you are a dreamer, and all you truly care for is the dream – the loss of caring, the loss of control. So you look, after a brief walk, maybe a minute, maybe a week, the city scape encapsulates you unable to brush the sand from your shoes. You find comfort in the warm synthetic amber glow of the streetlight above you, as if it were your spiritual home. The flickering temperament of your new goal sets a new rhythm. The search intensifies; you seek the goal of your goal, the ideology of accomplishment, not the realization of. STOP.... EMBRACE THE WALLS OF YOUR MIND, THE DARK UNFIGURED SILHOUETTE, AND THE GENERIC STREET WALLS, ONLY IDENTIFIED BY THE SENTIMENT OF A PREVIOUS EXISTENCE. They seem familiar, yet only exist as the boundaries of your mind. YOU HAVE BEEN HERE A THOUSAND TIMES TONIGHT AS YOU DREAMT A THOUSAND NIGHTS.
Where does the dream end and the reality begin? How sure are you when you arrive back in the car that that was where it all started? Why is the desert, the storm, the ship, the alley way, your sanctuary from this chaotic journey through the inner depths of your mind? Maybe this is who you are looking for? An Assurance? A Guide? A Relative? A Contrast? A Context? Perhaps to wake and inspire true judgment.
You climb the staircase, feeing that comforting warm friction of the carpet on your feet. You refer to a childlike emotional state, contempt. Revisiting the house from your childhood, in which you were born, grew, and dreamt. For a moment, time collapses to a singular, within to without; your energy seems to double within itself, without time and within a new reality. Only in the world of the dreamer can such powers be manipulated so truly without question or hesitation of belief.
