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Syndel's Spire
Syndel's Spire

My texts (78)
My series (10)




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00th 0000

Waking up 2.

Added:March 30th 2008, 04:08:57
Rating:4/5 (Votes: 1)

*Tick* *Tock* *Tick* *Tock*

The shallow sound of the clock on the wall barely registers in my waking dream, all external stimuli erased by the power of imagination and my connection to both worlds. The subconcious is a brilliant place, where all things have happened and can happen simultaneously. The waking world is re-written in a symphony of bent logic and distorted opinion to form the most simplest of things; an idea.

Am I awake? Have I been awake before now? These questions are impossible to answer in a state of flux, a door-way between two parralell fictions, each denying each other, and each serveing to split both our minds and personalities and fracture our logic until nothing remains except will-ful silence. The children in the street outside, the ticking of the clock, t

The light streaming through the open window casting brilliant rays of light unseen by the dream. The monsters of the dark, the feeling of movement, of flight, of freedom and of destiny which seem somehow ludicrous to the mind at rest.

And in this time I ask myself: Have I ever truly been awake? No? Yes. Once. Long ago, when my eyes could see everything that my brain could not comprehend, when my mind had to catch up with the vast amounts of information it was collecting. A time in which meaning meant nothing and understanding was an unimaginable goal and the only job of my mind was to simply catalogue and keep items of interest. A time in which my brain didn't rationalise, didn't focus, didn't deduce, didn't argue or criticise or anything else. It simply accepted, and at that time I was free.

Infantile. Thoughts jumping like pogosticks over an electric fence, neurons fireing and connecting in ways which cannot be comprehended. Learning something so in-built and natural that the simple process of comprehension was delayed until, after all external stimuli was swept away and I was left alone in the dark, my mind shut down and my body went comatose and I dreamt.

And somehow I comprehend.

An illogical dream gives birth to a logical conclusion. Sick and horrifying truths of injustice and reality shatter that comfortable sheild between worlds and suddenly the monsters of the dream are not just real they are different. Monsters which while wild and fanciful and undoubtably evil in a dream become humans with their own lives and values and no less scary for this. The concious and the unconcious are linked for the split second it takes for the sickening realisation to occur: that the world is not as simple as I would have beleived.

Suddenly my infantile mind grows. It realises that the rationalisation which took place in sleep must also happen while I am awake if I am to survive. My mind grows, adapts and becomes dull. Instead of the vast emptyness of incomprehension I learn to filter my comprehension and focus on individual issues until all is rationalised or condemned to a part of my mind in which incomprehension is accepted.

And yet what I feel is a yearning for that sheer bliss of unstressed learning. A clearness of mind which I know I shall never again acheive, except there is one way I can acheive it. In the doorway between two minds there exists a space in which the mind can let go of logic, can accept the surreal and experiance freedom.

I am awake with my subconcious mind. I am dreaming conciously. These two are mutually exclusive in a waking dream. What is once rational and logical spins out of control into an illogical fireing of ideas with no immediate refusal which my concious mind would otherwise provide. Suddenly the impossible is possible and by god it would WORK. And then a horn beeps outside and it's gone. The thoughts and dreams of the sleepless thinker floating away on the wings of a curtain, or on the silky smoothness of a dove.

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Total Personal Pages: 220 - Total series: 116 - Total texts: 882
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