Saturday, October 17, 2015

Lost inside

You know, you can get lost inside of a song and forget your own identity for a while and become the actual vibrations and the math and the sunken structure. A phenomenon rolling through four dimensions that makes and disappears, makes and disappears as it rolls, like a platen over your atom strings. You know... how you can almost become a song.

Haven't you ever just wanted to be a song? Born at the beginning of it, living your life in the music of it, and dying when it ends? Think of all the different lives of each song. So many lives. Some happy, some sad, some tragic, some violent, some loving and some hateful, but all of them beautiful to somebody.

I've always kind've wanted that, to be a song. That abstract longing to be not an organized collection of atoms making a me-ness, but an organized expanse of vibrations making a sound-ness. Still me, you know? But a music instead of a body.

That's sorta the state of mind I was in about twenty minutes ago, as I was walking and immersed in the sound of music (the hills are alive and have eyes, and all that, you know). I guess I'd forgotten that I have a neck and a head, with orbs of seeing imbedded in it, for just for a second or two because abruptly and without warning, the thing in front of me slid downward, and a new thing fell into place from above (that was my neck pointing my head and my eyes upward, I later deduced... as in a minute or two ago), and suddenly I was walking toward an open expanse of stars instead of a planetary horizon.

That only took like, three quarters of a second to happen, so I wasn't actually back inside of myself yet. I was still just a vibrating feeling with some cognitive powers, and when that starfield hove into view, I thought it was a wormhole, or a warp portal, or a stargate, into my dream memories. For just a second there, that's what it was like...

Like, you know how you can never remember exactly how a dream begins? It's always just sort of a blur that becomes a dream at some indistinct point. That starfield was like the dream gateway that you can never actually remember. The portal into the dream place.

That's why I had to type this up, write it down, punch it in, get it out of my head and onto a substrate that's compatible with the common, awake-type of reality.

Concentrated dream-feeling. A singularity of dream-feeling in that doorway. I think there's an event-horizon there, that you cross over when you die. Oh...

That's what the dream-feeling is? The relativistic effects of warped dream-time, near the dreamularity?

I don't think you're supposed to be awake for that. And that's why it's driving me insane. I keep getting it when I'm awake. Is that it. Why is that.

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