I had a dream.  Another dream and another dream.  Who is this for.  Who are those folks seeing these dreams.  I was driving.  Everything seemed real and normal.  How can something so boring as driving be so captivating that it is what i remember.  I Remember looking to my right.  I remember the feeling of my head moving and pivoting on my neck.  I can’t remember what that feels like now, but it seemed so fluid and normal and basic when i dreamed it.  Like nothing happened and my head looked right.

I was moving so fast when i looked.  I saw this soft yellow glow.  It was glowing in these squares.  Huge squares of light, only lite around the edges.  In the center were seats.  Folks were sitting in the seats, and all facing the same direction.  A lot of the seats were empty and the whole thing was like a row of these large windows, all lite up with this soft yellow light.  Nothing odd about that, except I was moving forward, and the windows were even with me and not moving forward or backwards.  I couldn’t understand why I wasn’t moving away from these windows.  The people looked so calm.  Faces slack and neutral, and not even thinking that anything odd was happening.  They were just sitting there.

I had to look away, and I remember my brain couldn’t understand what I was seeing.  I didn’t get the point of what i was seeing.  Why were these windows moving along with my car.  I was so confused.  I knew I had to look back, but I was so scared.  What if this wasn’t real.  What if I wasn’t seeing anything really happening, and this was the first break where my brain couldn’t accept what was happening.  At the same time, i couldn’t not look.  It was like something was controlling the muscles in my neck.  I hoped that when I looked back, the windows would be gone.  Or maybe still there.  What happened to all the folks sitting in the windows?

I looked back, and then the motion was slightly off, and the windows were falling behind where i was.  Suddenly, the lights made sense, I understood what I was seeing.  It was like a card stock fell into place, and overlaid on top of my reality.  It was such a mental change.  Like everything fell into a different frame rate, or a different place was put on top of my base reality.  The windows were on a train.  In the dark, I couldn’t see the train, and only saw the windows outlined by the light from inside the train.  I was keeping perfect pace with it, and it was moving like a solid object directly next to where I was driving.

All those people though, those faces.  The slack look as they moved.  I wondered about all of those faces.  They seemed so unreal.  I knew i couldn’t look back.  I had to drive away and not think any more about those people on the train.  The faces watching themselves move forward into somewhere down a track.

I dreamed of blue and green.  It wasn’t water and it wasn’t air.  It was some sort of memory of both.  It was tranquil and still and at the same time full of motion.  I felt like i was in a pipe or a tube of light.  It was fluid and motion and stillness and access to all things.  I felt like there was something that was being spent and sent through the colors and the motion.  I think it was being sent through me.  Was i the medium.  What was the fluid.  Was it fluid?

The blue was the lightest, like a sky covered in clouds, somehow so blue, but still white.  Or robin’s eggs.  How do I remember what robins eggs look like.  Tiny, fragile blue eggs.  I remember them so well, but I can’t remember where I saw them before.  I don’t have a window, and I still don’t remember walking outside or seeing the sky.  And the green was like jade, or leaves with the sun shining through them.  More washed out than that.  It was amazing to see the colors both mix together, but so defined.  I could see the flows past each other.  Moving, and still, and together, yet defined.  I seemed to be moving on those pathways.  Both out and back, up and down.  I was everywhere in the colors, but also distinct.  Like I was having an out of body experience.

I need to check my body.  It seems like it has been months since I have paid it any mind at all.  How long can a body go without food?  I seem to remember a month, but only three days for one without water.  I don’t remember water either.  Even though it is on my mind so much.  If i can’t go a month without food, how am i still here?  How has nothing happened to me yet when so much time has gone by and nothing has changed in this room.  How much time has gone by?  Do i know what the frame of time is here.  Maybe it hasn’t been as long as I suppose it to be.

I find myself getting distracted by the colors.  It almost seems like maybe this is where my dreams are coming from.  Like I am plucking a strand of color out of the wash of light and reading it into existence.  Like a book where the words are colors and the language is the gradation of spectrum i can’t understand.  Like there are words coming into the patterns, and by existing here, i pull colors into the world and make them into some sort of memory.  I don’t know why this is popping into my mind.  What would dreams have to do with colors, and why am i floating in so many colors.

Back to my body for a moment, the sheet is still here, the bed is still here, I am still here.  I haven’t moved.  I haven’t heard the knock again.  I listened for so many days.  I strained and focused and waited. Nothing yet.  I still can’t see anything outside of my room.  I still can’t seem to move. I can’t feel my body moving even though I can’t stop myself from asking it too.

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.

I remember sleeping and fading to the sound of thunder rolling.  It sounded like it was in the room with me, hidden beside the bed.  Sound slowly moving towards the bed, towards me, then rolling over me and passing along.  The sound was both lonely and comforting.  I could almost feel the pressure of the sound pushing me down into my bed, keeping me in place.  I slept with the sound coming and going, fading and getting louder as the storm moved.  I dreamt of the sound, and saw the air move and get deeper and darker.

Could the sound have changed the rhythm of my dream, and the nature of my thoughts?  Can sound change our thoughts without us being aware?  What if the sound of thunder was what made my mind so calm while my body didn’t move. How did the movement of the pressure waves and the pulse of my body merge into one.  All i know is that there is a peace in a storm in the distance.  The sound of thunder moving along in the distance, wrapped up in the clouds and hills.  It passed so close and seemed to remain all night and never really fade away.  It moved and moved and seemed to still live under my bed and by my floor.

Still though it helped my mind freeze into place at night and drift into my body more than it seems like it could at any time before.  I still don’t see how I am going to get into a place where I can ever get out of this bed.  The sheets must weigh more than my body, and the more i try to move them, the more that I feel like they are not something i can take off alone.  Like i am shackled into the bed by cloth.  I know that can’t be the way it is though because i can’t feel any links on my arms or legs.  I can feel my skin free under the sheets, and feel the hairs on my arms and legs loose and touching the fabric.

Is this the first time i have felt hair on my arms and legs?  Did i notice that before, or have i taken for granted that I have hairs.  Hairs on my legs down to my feet, and on my arms to my shoulders.  Tiny fine hairs on my arms, and heavier ones on my legs.  Were the hairs there the whole time, or did they just show up now that i am noticing them. I have to keep my mind on the sound of thunder.  On the rolling pressure that comes from the distance and pushes over the bed and passes by.  Nothing should distract me from this if i can.  I seem to fade in and out and want to drift back into the night and darkness that I was locked in last night.  Fade with the muted sound of thunder that rolls over my hills and keeps my mind at peace.

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.

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 never really paid attention to waking up until recently.  The more I think about it, the smaller details I notice, and the stranger waking up seems to become.  At first I always thought that waking up would be like the fuzzy sound of a speaker warming up.  Maybe the feel of slowly approaching my body and reattaching.  However, the more I look at it, the more binary it seems.  One moment I am not there, and the next I’m awake.  There seems to be no boundry between the two.  I don’t know if this is normal, since I’ve never really thought to ask someone what it feels like to wake up.  Maybe it doesn’t really feel like anything, and you just ‘wake up’.  The more time I look at this, the more it seems to be an important clue.  Something between the moment of being asleep and the moment of being awake has to represent a change of some sort.

This should be the start of my journey to wake up.  Maybe there are a million types of these transition states that happen every day, and I’ve never noticed them before now.  It could be that I’ve been switching between them, and just not aware. I hope to notice more of these, and piece apart the layers between waking and sleeping. Between laying and standing, moving and standing still.