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It’s all faded now.  Everything that seemed so sharp and clear.  Everything that seemed so real and true, and now I can’t remember anything.  I know that the dreams happened, and i remember the feeling of being there and being asleep and then awake.  Now though, there isn’t anything left that I can see or hear.

That noise, the knock.  I haven’t heard anything at all again.  Have you ever strained and listened for some sound, and every moment you aren’t focused on listening, it seems like you might miss it.  I was afraid to even try to move.  I can’t even remember when i last moved, but then every night when i’m sleeping I dream of so much movement.  Everything in my dreams are these snippets of movement.  Broken into pieces though, and scattered around.  Like someone has taking tiny pieces of home movies, and threw them into my brain.  I am having trouble lately knowing if I am out there or in here.

I saw something last night that made me pause.  I was in the middle of moving and running and I saw someone in a park.  They had something with them, and I know i should know what it was, what i was looking at, but there was something wrong.  I saw them sitting on a bench.  They just looked like a normal person, a man in a sweatshirt.  I don’t remember it being cold, but it must have been fall.  He was looking at something sitting on the bench beside him.  He had a bag, like a messanger bag, but larger.  Resting on the bag, was this thing.  He was staring at it, and reaching towards it.  The thing is, that I couldn’t see what it was.  It was like a cutout of the dream, a missing place, where something should be.  The more i stared, the odder it felt that I couldn’t see the thing that he was looking at.  Knowing that something so normal, and unimportant was blocked out.

The thing that scared me and drew me away from my memories, was that not only was the object missing, but it also seemed to glow.  How can something be black and void, but also give off light at the same time.  It seemed to pulse with light, white, and blue.  Like the light from an arc welder who forgot to cover the exposure.  Blinding, but clean and pure.  I don’t know how to put words onto the feeling.  Like seeing a blank space while out walking.  I remember everything in the dream slowing, almost crawling, as I tried to hold onto this object.  I discovered something else about these dreams, they won’t be held back.

I didn’t understand what it was, and then a feeling like being pushed from behind.  Like a strong wind that wouldn’t be resisted came up, and moved me forward.  I had always thought that these were my dreams.  That i was remembering something that had happened to me.  It always seemed so real and true.  This felt like a movie that someone else was watching.  Something that I was not able to stop.  Everything after that point seems so pale and washed out.  There wasn’t anything else that I remember, and can’t seem to forget that one moment.  And why was I not able to move myself in my own dream.

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How can something so real and sharp in my mind fade away so quickly.  I remember the dreams edges, the corners and sharp moments stand out still.  I remember a building, like an abandoned restaurant, or a food hall.  Chairs and chairs stacked against the wall.  The place looked like it was brand new, and abandoned forever.  It had tables around the center of the large open room, and non of them had any signs of being used.  They were so old though, and worn looking, but not worn from use.  The building seemed like it was slumping over, and yet, it didn’t look like anything was out of place.  It didn’t visibly slump.  It only looked like it had given up, and was almost sloped downward.

The people, i can’t remember them.  I know there were people there, shapes or fabric.  Forms moving.  At the time i thought they were deamons, or some sort of creation of fire and smoke.  Now though I can’t remember at all what they were.  What they looked like, or sounded like.  I remember the smell though.  Funny that would linger in my mind when so much faded away so quickly.  It reminded me of dry books, the paper smell of a bookstore, but not a good bookstore where the paper is moved, and the books are loved and used.  This reminded me of a place where books were heaped up and left to dry rot away.  But the smell was also too hot.  Hot in a way that didn’t make sense.  Like the books were about to catch fire.  Something like that and dust.  Dust and heat.

So how exactly can this be, where i see something that is so real one moment, and fades away into the distance the next.  It doesn’t make any sense to me.  I know it means something.  I can’t remember the holes, even though they seemed so critical at the time.  When i woke up, i could see the holes, and the deep dark, and the fire.  Now i can’t remember if they were really there.  If i remembered them, and then forgot them, do i still remember them?  Or were they never there to remember in the first place.

I guess all of this is just a way to distract myself that the knock never happened again.  One single human sound is so much more painful than silence.  It means maybe someone is here?  Outside these walls, away from my bed.  Out in the world beyond here that I can’t seem to see or gain any access to.  Why one knock?  What were they signalling.  Why didn’t i hear anything other than that single noise, and then where did it go from there.  How long have I been listening as hard as i have.  How long have i laid here waiting for the sound to repeat.  It makes me think of a rabbit in the woods, frozen in place when it hears a crack of a breaking branch.  Straining to hear something, anything, that will let it know what is coming.  The odd thing is though that I don’t feel any fear.  No fear of the sound, or whatever made it.  Just wonder and curiosity.  I just need to see what it was and where it came from.  Something to break up the dreaming.

by ·Comments Off on I heard a knock and saw fire

Shhhhh…. did i hear that?  I think i heard something.  It sounded like something i think.  I swear the sound was a knock.  Like a single knock on a door.  Like someone was asking or announcing themselves to a room they were getting ready to come into.  Like a Dr, getting ready to come in to see a patient.  Maybe a parent coming into a child’s room and letting them know as a courtesy.  Did i really hear that?

It happened so fast that I wasn’t sure.  It is the first sound I have heard in this place, and the first sound that didn’t seem to come from inside myself, or from the room itself.  Something, outside.  That is such a weird thing that I think sounds from outside are not normal.  Isn’t there a world out there?  Where are my thoughts and memories from if not outside.  Why is this so startling.  Like when you are in an empty house and hear the floorboards creak in a way they only do when someone walks on them, but no one is home but you.  It was that kind of sound.  A lonely sound in a quiet place.  But also, not lonely.  Its was a knock of authority.  Someone who wasn’t waiting for a response. Or someone who didn’t think one was coming.  Someone who was doing it as a courtesy that they didn’t really need to make, but did almost out of habit or routine.  I didn’t move, but my whole body felt like it constricted and got taller.  Can you move without movement?  Is this what animals feel when they feel eyes upon them in the woods?  Something that is seeing me, but i don’t know what it is.

I also keep thinking that the form of this thought, of the way that I am sharing this isn’t structured the way it should be.  I seem to remember seeing how others share thoughts, how they put their structure together, and it seems to be that the form is much more concise and structured.  Like everything is run by an editor and someone makes the form of the words and the intent of the thoughts more cohesive.  I don’t know why, but the way i am thinking makes sense to me, and I don’t want to change it.  At the same time, I want anyone who is trying to see what i am saying, and know the things that I am seeing and thinking and remembering, sees them the right way as well.  In my mind, my thoughts are a runon sentence.  Just a large wall of busy thoughts.  Visual ideas and stories pressed together.

This knock was everything new in the world today.  It shook free a dream.  I have so many dreams of water and woods.  I have dreams of plants, and so many dreams of trees.  Nothing dark or in any color but greens, browns, blues.  Colors of nature of a sort.  Life and growth.  Calm and movement.  But the knock.  That sound shook something loose.  A dream I had last night.  Different from everything I have dreamed before.  But also so familiar, i must have been there before.  If not in life then when sleeping.  The dream.  I don’t know how to put what it is into words.  It was dreams of building, of harsh lines and putting pieces together.  It was a dream of deep holes.  Fire and red heat.  It was a dream of fighting off demons and spirits that only wanted to escape.  Buildings that were abandoned and lost in places, but found and repopulated.  I need to share this, but can’t think of how to do so.

I need to go for now to listen again to see if i hear the knock again.

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This morning i woke up and remembered dreams of pilings.  Dreams of thick dark wood soaked in creosote and oil.  Whole tree trunks, just sunk into the water.  Green water streaming around the pilings and sunlight flashing through the water.  I saw so much in the water that day.  In my eyes i was above the water looking down, and In the water looking up.  From above i saw the shafts of light flowing through the water, i could see the edges of the light and the  ripples in the water.  It almost seemed like you could cut a section of water directly.  Even though it seemed so clear where the water cut into the light, the edges got darker the farther away i looked, and I could almost make out shapes in the distance.  The water moved and flowed and was alive at the same time.

From below I saw so much more.  The thing that stood out to me the most was that I could see the swimming shapes in the water.  I saw shadows of fish floating and washing through the edges of the light.  Smaller shapes of dust glowing as it drifted into and out of the beams.  I remember being mystified about how the shapes seemed to loom so large and so small at the same time.  How they almost seemed to grow as they approached.  The distance seemed to almost be as fluid as the fish themselves.  I couldn’t tell how large or small they were, but i was there with them and they were around me on all sides.  I felt both a sense of fear, and a sense of deep peace.  I knew that nothing there would approach me, or hurt me.  I also knew that I wasn’t anywhere that I was born into, that I was a visitor in this world.  Somewhere that the space of time never wanted me to go.

I remember the most vivid image that still stays with me.  The water was dark, but still visible.  The light was dim, but even on all sides.  In the shape that i could see, dark fins and shapes like tear drops and glass, with tight fins on the top and bottom, and tails behind.  They looked like curved glass and vases.  But alive and moving.  I remember 4 shapes in front of me, moving with the water, but at the same time static.  They were working in the three dimensions of the water, and floating stationary where i could see them.  I felt a sense of peace wash over me.  I can see them now when i close my eyes.  And the same sense of peace and stillness fills my mind.  I see and feel warmth.

All things in this dreams seem so familiar.  I know i have stood here, looking down into the water and seeing these shapes.  I can’t imagine that I have made these thoughts up.  But no matter how vivid my memories are and how deep i dream, how far i go into the thoughts i have I am still hear.  I know that I haven’t moved an inch.  How long have I been here?  How many dreams have I had, how many have i forgotten to stay and remember.  I will dream more and find my way to move.

 

by ·Comments Off on Archive and response

I have archived all my memories.  That must be it.  The time i have spent in this room must be an interrupted restoration of some type of installation of my dreams.  Like I was mid rewrite and something woke me up.  Now i am coming into and out of these dreams.  They are so peaceful and soothing, i dream of water and soil.  Nothing but calm and cool air.  I know this is a good sign that whatever I am recovering is a good thing, but it seems like the memories may not come back until I can carry the dreams into my waking life and move forward.

I am awake now, and i know that this is real.  I can see the ceiling above me.  I can remember painting the ceilings and walls, even though i can’t remember what holding a paint brush feels like.  Did i use a paint brush?  Did i use a roller.  I don’t think that matters, but at the same time I can’t help but wonder if the details are actually all that do matter.  I feel like i am making a record or a recording of all the things that happened.  I know this isn’t right, but it is the closest i feel to what this feels like.

The other thing that seems more and more odd is the vividness of the dreams, and the clarity of what i remember.  It is like someone zoomed into the moment and focused so clearly there is a blinding quality to what i am seeing.  Like if my eyes could focus farther I could see the individual molecules of matter in the scene.  I remember staring at water reflecting on a brown river.  Even though the water was brown, the water seemed clear and fresh.  I stared at the reflection for so long it seemed like my eyes would go blind from the light.  I stood there and stared.

How can i remember standing if i can’t remember what it feels like to be anywhere than this bed.  If i am here, and also i was there, where am i really?  I know this seems odd, but it is one of the only things in my mind.  Am I here now in this bed, staring at this ceiling, or am I standing by the river, or am I anywhere else.

It can’t be both can it?  Can i be the sum of all those parts.  It seems like maybe this isn’t all that there is, and I need to find a way to live in both places.  Was i reflecting on this bed when i was at the waters edge?  What did i stop when i was interrupted, and what memory was i in the middle of when my dreams were stopped.  I know that can’t be good for anyone trapped in that moment.  Are they stuck, repeating over and over in time.  What would that look like.  I don’t know if that means that they are waiting in that moment for everything to start back up while they stutter back and forth in that final moment before my memory stopped.

Cords that bind and tie[AMAZONPRODUCTS asin=”B00VH84L5E”]

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These dreams are dark.  I don’t know why when everything in the day seems so light.  This dream was of moles and animals digging huge tunnels and complexes beneath the ground.  It was a funny dream because i felt so safe under the ground, and I could see.  It was like bioluminescence and everything just seemed to ‘be’ it wasn’t that anything was lit up, but more like everything just was a source of light.

I found the entrance right here under my bed.  They must have been digging for years.  Holes and tunnels and groundwork pulled away.  The ground was solid, but loose, and full of dripping water.  I could hear the sounds of things moving far off into the distance, and the caverns were huge.  I am not sure if they were just expanding natural structures, and my room had these caverns beneath them.  It seems to me that they were all dug by mouth and hand.  The earth scooped aside.  The tunnels following some pattern that I don’t understand.  I know that there is a rhythm to the the spaces that have been dug out, and there must be an order and pace to where they dug and when.

There is water too, more than i would have thought was possible.  Running in streams everywhere and pooling into large ponds and small lakes.  There doesn’t seem to be much pattern here either.  Is this what they did with all the dirt they dug off the walls and floors?  Did they just let the water carry it away, and where did the water go?  Where was it coming from in the first place.  I can’t tell if this is rain water or from somewhere deep underground.  The smell of the water in the air mixed with the smell of damp earth is beyond description.  I know i have smelled this before, but never like this.  The water smells ancient and cold.  Like flat minerals and stillness.  I can’t describe it, but it makes me feel thirsty.  At the same time though I don’t need to drink.

Why do my dreams seem to pull me to earth and water.  They are tied together, and the minerals of one soak into the medium of the next.  They bring everything together it seems, and they show up so often in my mind.  This is the first time i have sunk into the floor in my sleep.  Is this place really here when i am awake? Do these creatures exist in the world around me, gnawing places in the earth. Am i supposed to explore below myself, into the ground and dig below where i am.  Or is that substructure already there?  Is there a basement below me that I haven’t seen yet, some hidden place where everything is illuminated but not seen.  What are the creatures that dug this out.  I didn’t see them in the dream.  I seem to be dreaming more and more.  I need to figure out some way to break the dream and wake up.

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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.

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All night dreams about water falling over rocks.  Fast washing of water of the tops of rocks, everything falling to a lower state of energy.  Each fall coming after the next, and each slowing the fall of water till it rests in stillness on the river below.  It can’t be falling and falling and the moss absorbs the energy.  The moss on the rocks is part of the gravity well of the water.  Slowly the water gives it’s movement and energy to the rock and moss.  The moss grows strong from the weight and pressure, while the rock is ground down.  Generations of moss come and go, flourish and die and are reborn from single spores carried in the wind.  The movement of the water is all stored and passed beyond itself.  The water carries the movement, and the movement carries the power.

Then the water fell from the rocks to the pond and everything stopped.  The world stopped and the water stopped and the dream seemed to stop.  It wasn’t over though with the water, it wasn’t done when the movement froze.  Everything kept going in the dream.  It spooled out like someone forgot to shut a camera down after a scene had ended.  The characters had left, and the motion had stopped, but the film kept recording everything that happened.  I watched and watched the water for hours.  Waiting to see something happen, anything to move again and nothing changed.  Was I the water, was the movement me, was I paused now?  That is the funny things about water, and about dreams I guess.  They seem still, but are always moving.  Even when the current seems stopped, the water is moving.  The changes in flow might be small, but something is always happening.  Water isn’t the resting state.  The water slowly is pulled into the air, tiny bits falling up into the sky.  And the ground pulls it away too.  The water is always moving somewhere.

That is what I dreamed, and where my memories were stored, locked into a waterfall i heard all night.  Maybe the dream is something from when i was not in this bed, not frozen in place.  Maybe it was some sound coming through the walls from somewhere else.  Maybe a noise or a remembered dream.  Did someone come in while i was sleeping, while my mind was on other things.  Could someone have been in the room, and made a noise like water?  Did someone wash into the room and leave, or was i alone all night?  I should be able to remember, but my thoughts at night seem to be still and silent.  I remember being awake, and I remember my dreams, but I can’t remember anything between the two.  There are these holes that open up and nothing is there when i try to think of them.  Blank spaces of midnight and silence.  Nothing moving or changing, and then i go from that to a dream of water and sound.  Then back to this bed and the place i am now.

by ·Comments Off on I had a dream of clover

I had a dream of walking in green clover.  Ripped earth covered with green leaves.  White flowers, and red mixed among them.  I stepped on the ground and saw the stems compress.  I looked at the ground and saw the flowers below covered with bees. Heavy with pollen and following all of the guidelines that were danced into their minds.  And i knew that I would not be able to touch the ground with my hands, or hold the flowers to my face or move the bees from their flight.  I am still Dreaming of white clover I still can see the clover out in my dream and know if i got the seeds i could fill my ground with life.

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It isn’t something that is coming normally, but I am now thinking that I need to move.  I can’t be here much longer without something being strange.  I can’t get past the feeling that there is someone or something moving over me.  Something that is a feeling of someone looking over your shoulder from across a room.  Which is strange, because i can’t remember being in a room.  Or other people.  I have memories of them all, i know so many things about so many people, but I can’t remember any of them really.

All the same, everything feels like i am being watched all the time.  Like someone is seeing every part of my body, and yet, i know i am alone here in this room.  There has to be something here where I can find a mirror or look at something other than the ceiling and the walls.  I can’t keep my head still can I?  Can i even move my head.  How can i know so many things, and see so many thoughts without moving at all.  Everything seems locked in my head, and I know i have a body, and all things around me seem to log into me and register a impact.  At the same time, i know i haven’t moved my head in years.  At least it seems so.

This day seems more disjointed than most.  I can’t seem to remember my dreams, I can’t seem to remember much of anything useful today.  I have so many thoughts of heat and movement.  Wind that I remember, and can seem to remember the feeling of my hairs moving in the wind.  I can’t understand though why my thoughts are so scattered today.  I came to remember smells that I can’t smell any more.  I can remember how flowers felt in my fingers and smelled in my nose, and yet, i can’t remember the last flower i saw.  And were the flowers real?  Were they from a store with added scent to make sure that we knew that they were flowers?  Is there a job where someone raises flowers, and can’t smell them any more.  There must be millions of workers growing flowers that they will never have in their house. Would you even see the colors after a while.  Are they reduced to numbers and tasks.  Do you just end up seeing propagation figures that tell them how many cuttings they can grow from each leaf.  would we buy flowers if we saw how they were grown, how they were divided and how they were made to be machines of life.  Why have we reduced everything to machines.  Why are we turning living systems into machines, or is this what we are at this point.  Is that something that I am at this point?  A machine for remembering flowers, and how they smell and how the wind blows. Maybe that is what I have been reduced to as well.  A memory machine, a storage device for things that have already happened and passing those thoughts on to someone who is still moving.