Entry 11 – March 19th, 2017
REM Sleep in Progress…or I touched the surface of Me and shattered
Continuing the theme of the previous post…There is a purpose to it all and if you take a chance and look into it on your own, without any preconceptions or idle notions you just might find something more than what the surface can see…you are more than just a sack of flesh and bone ambling through this existence…not an accident or some cosmic twist of fate…you were given the faculties to question and wonder…use them…and so it begins…
If I wonder long enough will this all make sense or is it only an illusion?
It’s a question worth considering in the span between breaths, the fragile oxygen hanging in the space between the atmosphere and inhalation, on the verge of being the molecules that further this existence. The short frame of seconds is all it really takes for that first thought to creep in and take hold…giving birth to the wonder that will forever captivate the imagination with a spark and a light that never willingly goes out. But will it make sense? Will it be the realization that finally gives it all meaning and purpose and drives forward towards that place where the pieces all fit together and everything works out to the right conclusion? Or is it just another wisp of illusion, a sleight of hand in the fog and mirrors surrounding us? Can it be both? It’s one of the things that invades my slumber in the apparition of a dream…this idea that maybe the illusion is as close to being what makes everything work as the reality we cling to…treading through the mundane and the trivial like they’re the only things that are certain….and in the quiet moments when nothing stirs and the only sounds are the natural humming of the night intermingled with the mechanical revolutions and the breath of life filling and escaping from our lungs….the only time our guard comes down and who we really are is laid bare for the “not so” blind eyes of the evening…it’s these moments when our most lucid thoughts play out on the theater screens of our minds….and we dismiss them as careless wondering and easy dreams, sometimes even nightmares….but what if all our daylight hours were the real source of fiction? What if what we consider our normal average daily routine was the real dream…a sort of broadcast image controlling our range of thought…to the point where no one openly considers the idea of there being anything more. Is this all we are? And if so then what’s the point of wondering at all? Unless….unless maybe there is something more out there….maybe life is not so paint by the numbers cut along the dotted lines….maybe it’s a mess and a dream and a hope in knowing that each day is another step….another chance to wonder….