mymachinedream
This hit me like a silver thread through my mind. It blew away my cobwebs and brought me back. Brought me back to where i was. I remember this moment and time.
This was the beginning. I went to this place and worked on waking up. I can’t imagine how long it has been between then and now. Or how long i think it is between then and now. I have a hard time with dates and times. Keeping them apart and keeping the moment of today from running into tomorow.
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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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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 woke up in the same bed. The same bed in the same room. The same room in this light that never changes. The same light on my sheets covering my body. My body that I can’t move, and all of this over and over again.
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.
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.
Grey Staircase Up or Down?
So I have to ask myself, if I am pulling away filters from each step as I wake up, what do I start with? What is the first filter you need to move? What would that look like, is it pulling a rod attached to blinds? Pulling a cloth across a window? Is it slipping lens before your eyes and losing the color blue. I always imagine our filters are woven fabric used to filter water. Giant black tendrels weaving in and out of each other. Small enough, and you could live on the threads, and grow your whole life on one section of the filter. Large enough and you are forced into the weave. You push up against the cloth and are pinned as everything flows around you. How many smaller things are flowing around the obstruction in the way, and do they notice anything different in the way they see the world? Do they seem faster than those next to them? Do they rush forward towards something, away from something? Filters are odd things to think about.
So does my day start out with me remembering nothing? Or everything. Am I removing all of the filters I’ve learned how to remove or add to make my life what it seems to be about. Or is the day started like a saved game or started movie, taken off pause or reloaded. I’ve gone off track, as I tend to do. I’m sure I was going somewhere with that thought, but I don’t know exactly where it was going.
One thing that I know that I am in love with is the feeling of stretching out my legs when I wake up. Something about that intense first feeling of everything pulling out. It is like potential, something building. They are often sore, and weary from the day before, but always energized for that first moment. I’ve started the day with so many stretches, they are all blending together. What goes into the thought that remembers that my body needs to move? Is it just basic biology. Is my body just knowing that moving the legs first thing is the best way to keep myself safe? Like baby deer or giraffe that are born and start walking. You know the first thing your day may call for is to run. Or to jump or dance. Or just to lay in peace and happiness and just rest and stretch. What if we are pulling our legs out to pull the vessels in our legs longer so that the negative pressure caused blood to pull faster into the extremities. What if this life was that much of a machine. What if it is all pressure gradients and volumes. What if we are a math problem, what is the equation that we would write out to explain each movement in our day. How would we wrap our mind around the variables? Can we take each moment and wake each portion of our body and mind at such a speed that we can see each letter and number etched out to pull the equation together. Another day is beginning, and I think I could lay here a few more minutes if I need to.