In the beginning there was darkness. It was the middle of the night. He’s deep asleep. Off in that other realm, where beliefs make things real. In the dream, I let things happen. The experience was seemingly concrete, yet I made no choice. Gradually, as if a movie was being played among the stars, the plot turned sour. I watched in shock as each event passed, helpless in my desire to help. An unnamed horror (which actually happened later in the day after I woke).
Then I had a hundred thoughts at once.
At that instant, I wake up in the dream. I realize what horrors had just happened. It all happened in a single moment. At that moment, the entire reality of the dream emerged. All of the factors came together, weaving a single thread. Time stopped, as if the dream happened in the blink of an eye and never was.
At once, I loved and dreaded the dream. The fate behind the dream was revealed as life itself, in my awakened reality.
The dream turns into a nightmare. Out of nowhere, an I emerges. At the same time I wake, I finally choose to abort the simulation. The I that emerged had no relation to a single event in the dream, and it was quickly forgotten.
When I wake up, I remember the horror and question whether it’s real. What was real about the dream? I created it, though it had a destructive nature.
The series of events have more turns before we arrive here, though this is where the horrors were most vivid.
In the spring of that year, I got distracted with life. Life itself, on the lowest level where happiness was abundant. Spring break came, and I got a clean break from my previous state of mind through a change of environment. I hanged a map of the local town behind my head, so I had more pleasant explorations in my dreams.
Meanwhile, in real life, where I just woke from the dream, I cannot sleep. The phone rings. I wonder why. Useless! Meaningless! Was I still in a dream? Nobody would even hear a phone ring while they were asleep. I return to pondering the dream.
Next episode: two lefts don’t make a right