mymachinedream
It felt like snow. Snow all over the side of a high mountain. Cliffs that ran into the air so high they couldn’t be real. It looked like grey granite that no one had climbed up in a thousand years. It looked like a place where people would dig into the rockface to find warmth. Somewhere beyond where life should even think of going. Covering all of that gray and cold was the snow.
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I’ve decided that i should at least try to move a single thread on this bed. It has to be possible at least in theory. I should be able to have my body pull on the thread. It seems that there must be something wrong with my body. There must be right? Or I would be able to move. At least my fingers? They are there right under the the sheets. I can almost see them. Continue reading
I found this floating full form in my mind. It wasn’t in pieces, and it wasn’t something that showed up and i thought about. I was awake, and there was this fragment sitting there. Exactly like this, in my mind and frozen. It didn’t have an ending, and I don’t know where it was from, and where it goes. This seems like a fragment that was lodged into my mind, and floated there until it dislodged.
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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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.
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?
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?
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?
I come here, and then I am gone. The summer months come i think. I can’t see out of the room, and I know that i have no way of knowing. But at the same moment that I can’t know, i know with certainty. I have seen the summer months roll past. Roll into the dusk of this room. I won’t be able to put all those moments behind me.
I was awake one moment, then i closed my eyes to blink and didn’t open them again. I was sort of cast out, cast into my dreams and then froze there. I was confused at first when i landed in my dream. I normally remember being in them, but not getting into them in the beginning. Is this the start of a new phase of my dreaming?