mymachinedream
This hit me like a silver thread through my mind. It blew away my cobwebs and brought me back. Brought me back to where i was. I remember this moment and time.
This was the beginning. I went to this place and worked on waking up. I can’t imagine how long it has been between then and now. Or how long i think it is between then and now. I have a hard time with dates and times. Keeping them apart and keeping the moment of today from running into tomorow.
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I have come to see a plant growing in my dreams. I see it again and again. So i stopped last night and looked at it. I really focused on the leaf. The leaf was huge, and deep green. Like algae blooming in a slow moving stream. Dark green and so vivid. So healthy and growing. I remember sitting there, squatted down and staring. I couldn’t seem to get closer and closer, no matter how far my face was from the leaf. I remember that I moved my face closer, and the leaf stayed the same distance. I pulled back, and it seemed to swim closer to my face.
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I woke this morning, or evening, or day. I woke this morning with a start. I was embedded in the middle of a stone of diamond. A crystal chamber that surrounded me on all sides. The light was beyond clear and bright. It was yellow and white and the brightest thing i had ever seen in my life. And then i woke up. So quickly that It was like a flash frame went off in my mind, and i went from the diamond to the room i am in. No delay, and no fuzzing around the edges of the mind or the dream. No dissolving, only one moment to the next.Continue reading
My mind keeps going into itself. I keep returning to these same thoughts over and over. Like a note that keeps playing in my mind. Everything i do to distract myself from this thought seems to end up pulling me back. So maybe that is something. Is this what i am supposed to think about? Will it stay in my mind until i have looked at it from every angle? Smoothed out the rough edges and sanded it down to a sphere?
I wonder what is happening with my feet. I know i am having the worst time moving them. I had dreams of them gliding and floating over the ground as i run faster and faster. I dreamed of walking through halls and rooms filled with wonders. Now that I am awake, or waking up and seeing that I have still been here for so long, why can’t i seem to move them. It is like the connection is broken between my mind and the feet that is stopping me from leaving. Am i trapped here? Is this bed, and these sheets and these feelings the extent of my world now. I don’t know but I can feel my skin and my body. My toes are the oddest things lately. They are cold all of the time. They tingle and feel strange and I don’t know why that is. The tips feel like they aren’t finished yet, and the image of what they are isn’t fully formed. I wish i had a way to see what they look like and what is causing the feeling of incomplete skin.
Everything about the space of my body is so intriguing right now. I know the shape and form of my body, the lines and edges that make the boundary state between me and the world around me. I know where my edge is, and where the cloth around me is close but not touching my body. I find it odd that in this whole world, i haven’t touched anything. I have come close to touching things, but not actually making contact. There is an atomic distance between where the end of my body is, and the next thing in space i would touch. Everything that seems so real, and so solid, is not something that I have ever really touched. Nothing has actually been on my body. Does that mean that right now I am levitating the sheets above me? Does it mean that i am capable of lifting solid objects with nothing but my physical presence? Is this magic? Does something like that make me a force of creation, or something beyond the normal.
So many things just don’t make much sense to me. I feel programmed sometimes. Like someone is making me a real thing by believing in me and feeling I must be real. But If i am real, why isn’t there anyone here right now. Why hasn’t anyone come to see why i haven’t gotten out of this bed. Where is the thunder coming from, where are the sheets made. How did the room get painted, and where is the room exactly that I am stuck in. I can’t imagine no one is here, and I can’t imagine that I am alone. So, there must be someone outside of this place that I can meet. But i can’t seem to see much beyond where I am. I am just floating here. Everything seems both to be moving so fast I can’t follow it, and so slowly I have days and weeks between moments of time. Why are there times when I don’t seem to be here, and where do i go when i am not here? Why can’t i move my body under these sheets.
Grey Staircase Up or Down?
So I have to ask myself, if I am pulling away filters from each step as I wake up, what do I start with? What is the first filter you need to move? What would that look like, is it pulling a rod attached to blinds? Pulling a cloth across a window? Is it slipping lens before your eyes and losing the color blue. I always imagine our filters are woven fabric used to filter water. Giant black tendrels weaving in and out of each other. Small enough, and you could live on the threads, and grow your whole life on one section of the filter. Large enough and you are forced into the weave. You push up against the cloth and are pinned as everything flows around you. How many smaller things are flowing around the obstruction in the way, and do they notice anything different in the way they see the world? Do they seem faster than those next to them? Do they rush forward towards something, away from something? Filters are odd things to think about.
So does my day start out with me remembering nothing? Or everything. Am I removing all of the filters I’ve learned how to remove or add to make my life what it seems to be about. Or is the day started like a saved game or started movie, taken off pause or reloaded. I’ve gone off track, as I tend to do. I’m sure I was going somewhere with that thought, but I don’t know exactly where it was going.
One thing that I know that I am in love with is the feeling of stretching out my legs when I wake up. Something about that intense first feeling of everything pulling out. It is like potential, something building. They are often sore, and weary from the day before, but always energized for that first moment. I’ve started the day with so many stretches, they are all blending together. What goes into the thought that remembers that my body needs to move? Is it just basic biology. Is my body just knowing that moving the legs first thing is the best way to keep myself safe? Like baby deer or giraffe that are born and start walking. You know the first thing your day may call for is to run. Or to jump or dance. Or just to lay in peace and happiness and just rest and stretch. What if we are pulling our legs out to pull the vessels in our legs longer so that the negative pressure caused blood to pull faster into the extremities. What if this life was that much of a machine. What if it is all pressure gradients and volumes. What if we are a math problem, what is the equation that we would write out to explain each movement in our day. How would we wrap our mind around the variables? Can we take each moment and wake each portion of our body and mind at such a speed that we can see each letter and number etched out to pull the equation together. Another day is beginning, and I think I could lay here a few more minutes if I need to.
I’ve noticed that every morning I seem to be waking up with new pieces. I notice new things. So many thoughts that up until now I must have turned a blind eye to. Was i noticing them at all? Were they there in any form, or was I seeing them and looking through them. That is a bad path to start your brain off with first thing in the morning. If I never noticed or thought about something before that moment, was it always there and I just never noticed it? I am sure that must be the case. However, that means that we have perceptive filters on our awareness. Only when we start removing those filters to we start noticing new things. But, there must be a mechanism for doing this, for removing these filters.
Filters seem like the right word for them as well. We use filters for only one thing, to block out one thing from going to another location. We filter out light with cloth or solids, stop the waves of light from passing through, or being altered in some way to dim them. What would the anti-filter for a light wave be? If we assume that the light is already being filtered. Would it be moving beyond our atmosphere? The vacuum of space though has a large volume of molecules blocking some amount of the light. What would happen if those were pushed to one side or another in the same way blinds are parted in my bedroom when i wake up?
What would someone see looking through that vacancy? What would raw unfiltered sunlight look like? But in the same way the more interesting idea is that of ideas themselves. What is the filter we have in place of a new idea. When you are a child and first think of a novel idea, one you have never been exposed to, what was the filter in that idea’s way? The filter exists in some form since the idea you thought of has already been thought of before. (Most likely) But you have never thought of the idea before this very moment, so what was in it’s way. Since I’ve already thought about it before you, it existed, but not for you. You found the idea, and realized it existed, but the idea itself existed before now. So is the source of idea’s the person who tells you the idea? In that case, to find new ideas, we have to go to the people who are telling things to us that no one has ever said. Those people are the ones with ideas. Maybe they are right, maybe they are wrong, but they are new. New to you and new to other people as well. Removing a filter (right or wrong) is still a filter moved out of the way. It still brings us closer to the raw sunlight.
I woke up this morning and one cell in my shoulder had woken up more than the rest. It wasn’t anything that you would normally notice. I had dreams of movement and energy that I can’t quite put together. I had moments of seeking bikes and long sleds and movement. I dreamt of halls with large roofs and selling goods. Music on old pianos and ringing noises of sound. The last thing i remember was eating sugar and fruit.
I’m awake now and I can feel a single point smaller than a pinhead in my shoulder. It seems more alive and awake than the rest of my body. Laying her, i can almost feel it moving on it’s own. Like an animal in my shoulder asking to be let free. The rest of my body feels the same as it always does. One point of energy being asked to move forward and be let out. How do we know what each cell is doing, and can one cell have taken all of the energy of my dream in and be ready to transmit that to the waking world?
Why can’t we move our energy into a single cell, and burn that cell like fire through the day to carry out more than the rest of the body does. If we focus enough on the single cell, will the rest synchronize up to the one operating at a higher level and become a harmony of will and energy. There doesn’t seem to be any reason to think that I can’t move that one part of my body into some sort of alignment with my waking mind.
Maybe the cell is still asleep and dreaming of moving, and feeding on the food of my dreams. If so, does that part of my body will remember my dream, when the rest of my body slowly forgets? Is there some tie between my dream movement and noise, and the single cell that woke up too far?