by ·Comments Off on Running Waves

It was a joy. A joy of so much freedom last night. So much and so long since i have had dreams of water. So long without my dreams of waves, and water, and running. I couldn’t believe it. When i woke up in my dream, i was already moving. I remember the water was green, and blue. It felt like electricity, and life itself. I remember the moon was high in the sky, and I could almost feel the waves being pulled up.

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by ·Comments Off on Carried in a sack, the Buddha walked

I am piecing together what this world means.  I think i am at least.  I don’t know how to frame what I have found.  Lying here, in this bed.  I realized it a little the other day when the room had changed.  Now I can’t remember what the change was.  Maybe the color of the walls. Maybe the sheet?

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by ·Comments Off on Would this move my foot

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.

by ·Comments Off on Pulling Together

Eventually I will have to get out of this bed.  I’ll have to get moving and face whatever happens when I put down my feet.  I am not sure that I’m ready to get up yet, and sometimes I don’t think I can move my legs even if I wanted to.  What if I can’t move today?  Sometimes in my dreams I try to run, and my legs won’t move forward.  I remember what it feels like to run, and what the motion should feel like.  I know i’m asleep, and know I need to move faster, but I can’t make my legs move.  It feels like i’m shuffling, and not able to lift my feet.  Slowly moving forward.  At the best moments of my dreams, I embrace that I can’t lift my feet off the ground, and start to glide.  I wonder if I am lucid dreaming in these dreams?  If I am, what is the difference between when I am stuck not running, and gliding along.  Sometimes, when I am gliding, my strides get longer and longer.  It’s like I’m hovering over the ground as I run.  I wonder to myself in these dreams why everyone else isn’t pointing and calling out.  I’m hovering, not quite flying and holding myself over the ground.  It feels amazing, and in my waking day I wish I could run that way.  To throw myself foot over foot, and drift across the ground.  But those days I can’t move my legs, where I’m stuck in the mud, latched to the ground.  Maybe this is a form of waking up as well, awake in the dream like in life.  What if I wake up in the dream when I can glide across the ground.  What if my stuck feet are the same as the feeling of not waking up in the morning and feeling trapped in bed.  One more minute, one more hour, one more stretch and I might get away from this.  Maybe in this day, I’m spending too much time waking up, and not enough time being awake.  Maybe this is the most awake I’ve ever been and I’m finally getting ready to glide away from here.  Could everyone else be gliding right now, and I feel slow and stuck in the mud?  What if I’m already gliding and I just can’t tell.  What if I’ve been asleep in this bed and waiting to wake up for all this time.  Everything will continue to move without me being out there, and I don’t want to miss anything.  How am I going to pull myself awake from these dreams, when the dreams are so real they seem better than what I’m waking up to.  If your dreams are better than your waking life, then you are probably doing something wrong, or you are not living in a dream yet.  Outside my window a cloth is stuck in a branch and is slowly getting blown back and forth in the wind.  Time to move that cloth and bring it inside.