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It was a wind through a tunnel. Something narrow and cold. I know it was cold like steel, or silver. The color was silver, and even in the dark, the walls glowed and shone. Something burnished and almost alive. The wind was a rush. Like water in a valley, it was pushed into and through this passageway. Blowing with a steady flow, and it wasn’t until i stood there for a while that i noticed the changes in the wind.

It started out that i noticed the hairs on my arms. They would blow, and then for a brief moment, slowly rise a tiny fraction. Then, back to where they were. This is when i realized that the wind wasn’t constant. The tunnel was breathing. Or the wind was breathing and the tunnel was channeling the breath by me. Either way, it was subtle and only in my stillness did i notice the changes.

I remembered as a child i stood on a hillside that had been mined years before. The mountain was full of holes where people had dug and dug. I was climbing on the mountain, and remember finding a hole in the ground. Just a tiny hole, maybe a foot across. I would have walked by it without noticing, except the wind coming out of it made this sound. Like a soft moaning noise. The wind was coming from inside the mountain. It was a chimney for the mines below, to carry air into the mine, and blow the spent air into the mountain.

I haven’t thought of that hole, and that wind, in so long. I remember standing on the side of the hole, and staring down into the dark, with my hand over the hole, feeling the wind. I was frozen then, and I am frozen now.

This is the first time i remember being a child. That means i must be an adult now, if i remember being a child before? I know that I seem to be adult sized here in bed. I know that I must be fully grown to know the things i know. I know this for sure, but I don’t remember being a child. Except this memory now, i remember that so well. Who dug that chimney? What did the people in the mine feel when they stood benieth the space in the mountain where the air was focused on escaping.

Now after years, i stood again on this metal surface, and it brought me back in time and i remember. I remember being small. And i know that it seems real, and seems like me. This place i am now is like standing in that tunnel. Why are the only colors i can see in the dark glowing silver? How can i see glowing in the dark? I am sure it is dark. I know light from dark at least, and I know my eyes are open now. How long have we changed to have the sense of wind on our arms to give us this information, even when everything else is hidden. To stop and know the motion of wind, to know that the air itself breaths sometimes, and changes in such subtle ways.

by ·Comments Off on Synchrony and leaves

I had a vision in my mind of my hand holding a leaf.  At least it seemed to be my hand, and i knew it was a leaf.  I say that I didn’t know if for certain it was my hand because now i am doubting what my hands look like under this sheet.  It has been under there for a long time, and if i strain my eyes, i can see the outline of what must be my hands under the sheet.  How do i know what they look like if i can’t feel them or move them though?

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by ·Comments Off on Single and Unified vision of the path

I have realized that these things i see in my mind are all united.  They seem to come from the same place in my mind.  Every dream i have, has a beat to it.  A code embedded within it that strums to the same tone.  Something unique, like a footprint running along the spine of the dream.  The footprints match.  I don’t know how i missed this for all of these months, years?  Days?

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by ·Comments Off on Going forward, moving limbs

I have to try again.  Again, and again and again and again.  I feel like i am going crazy right now.  Like an itch or a nagging pull against a sheet while you are trying to sleep.  Something keeps pulling at my soul.  Something is nagging at me, teasing inside of my brain and body.  Have you ever had to sleep, and all of your joints felt like they needed you to stretch them over and over to release this build-up of pressure?  I feel like there is something inside my skin, deep into my core that needs to be ripped and pulled apart

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by ·Comments Off on A thin film

There was a thin black film spreading over everything today.  It started at my hands, and I couldn’t seem to stop it.  It was so dark, and smelled like almonds.  I can’t remember eating almonds, but I must have if i remember the smell when it is all over me.  At first I wasn’t worried, I had come here intentionally to spread this epoxy into a film.  I am trying to hold back so much and hold in so much.

It got onto my fingers and then spread up my arms. I backed up and it got on my back.  It fell down my leg. It was everywhere and spreading.  It was cool and smooth and spreading over my skin.  Cutting off the air, holding down the skin and filling my nose with fields of almonds.  I can’t get away from the smell and the hole i am in.  I can’t get the plastic from my skin and don’t know if i want to.  It can’t be something to get off.  Drips of it on my fingers keep me from rubbing the liquid off my arms.  I need out of here now that the work is done.  I can’t remember why i was sealing this hole, or how i was going to use it when i was done.

Then everything is back to here, and I remember I am not awake yet.  I can’t be filling anything and epoxy doesn’t make any sense.  How would i mix it, where would i get it.  Why am I here in this ground and who made the ground the way it is. The epoxy isn’t real and the ground isn’t real.  This is a dream and something folding into my mind.  Was this the feeling of the sheets around me?  Did something put down weights onto me.  Why are all the thoughts of anything outside this room so vivid and so disconnected.  Why does everything seem so real and so unconnected to a past or future.  I see these things like dreams or a movie i was in.  I know so much about it, but also I can’t remember when it happened.  I can’t remember what i was doing before each event, or my plans after they are done.

I seem to be a dream.  I must be a dream.  If i am not a dream, am i some fragment of an idea someone is having, am I some sort of memory someone is putting into place.  Plugging into me these small pieces of a real life, holding small fragments of life and feelings, and then disconnecting me from them.  I know this means something, but that seems to be part of what is missing.  I can’t seem to connect the what to the why.  I know that there must be some reason that more and more I seem like i am more awake and present in each of these memories, or dreams, and yet i can’t seem to get anything to fall into place.  They seem random and disconnected, but they mean something to someone.

by ·Comments Off on There has been a missing space

I am not sure what has happened to me.  I was just here one minute and the next I am still here, but different.  I know something has changed, some time frame has shifted.  Like a large space of time has gone by, and nothing happened while i wasn’t there.  Was i awake?  Was I asleep this whole time.  It seems that so much has happened, but I am still in the same spot that i was in a moment ago.  How can I still be here, but not still in the same time.  I am so disorganized and tired still.  Still fighting with my own mind to try to find out where and when i am.  I can’t imagine that no time has passed, but It can’t be as large of a moment as it seems.

The first thing i noticed that made me think that something had happened was when i closed my eyes the walls around me in this room were white.  The bedspread over me was tan.  I opened them and the walls seem tan and the bedspread is grey.  It can’t be that they changed, or did i just remember the colors wrong.  Maybe they were backwards the whole time.  I know i have never been any good at remembering colors.  I am pretty sure I can only see in primary colors, and there isn’t anything but red, green, blue.  That doesn’t seem right though.  There are more colors than that.  I remember once while travelling seeing a tv commercial for testing for color blindness in kids.  The people on the screen were holding up cards to show you the tests they use and talking about numbers i couldn’t see.  Was the tv screen not showing the numbers?  Was I not able to see them there because I was color blind?  Was i really travelling?

I am having trouble telling the real world from what I have dreamt.  I know that I have vivid dreams that seem so real and so close to my waking mind.  But sometimes it seems like they bleed over into the real world, and I wonder if the things I saw happened.  Is there some chance that I am here, and then gone?  How can I be here in this bed, laying here trying to sort my thoughts, and also in those dreams not knowing which is real.  If i dream i am digging up dirt, and wake up with dirt under my nails.  Did I bring that with me?  Did i go to sleep with dirt under my nails last night?  I can’t seem to really remember last night.  I just seem to remember this morning.

The funny thing is that I can lay here and feel things moving.  I can feel my skin moving against the sheets, I can feel my air through my throat.  My hair rubbing against the pillow.  But at the same time, i feel like I can’t move at all.  Like I can’t move beyond the slight motion that is happening all the time.  I know I can move my legs, I have done it so many times.  But I can’t seem to find the energy to move them now.

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.

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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.