What is she? It’s been months. Months and months and months and months. Truthfully I began to miss her.

I thought to myself “What were you?”

Was it just a phase or some mental compulsion that stuck in my head and would not leave, and then one day POW! Gone! I never really forgot about her. It was stuck in the back of my mind; simmering. Have you ever felt something inside a dream? Or tasted something? I have tasted, and I have felt. Though I lie alone in my bed I feel her arms around me, squeezing me, putting a want inside of me. I think I might be close to guessing what she is. She is some sort of innate longing for something that lives in my subconsciousness. When I dream although there is no external stimulus my body is fooled into believing in the reality of the dream. There is no external pressure or warmth, yet I feel these sensations when I sleep. It’s indistinguishable from the real thing.

Recently I confess I have been up to no good. It doesn’t matter how it got to this point, but I realised I was dreaming somehow. I had been told by an Asian dream guru that if you ever realise you are dreaming, you should look at your hands. Normally in a dream you never see your body, but if you look at your hands you see you arms, and it gives you a physical body in the dream. You can use this body to manipulate the world more easily as you are no longer merely just a floating ethereal construct. I looked at my hands and clenched my fists. My body now existed in this world. I had already started running towards the window before I even knew why. I was planning on jumping and flying off to explore the infinite, arms forwards ready to fly. But the dream world began to collapse around me as it usually does when I achieve such awareness. Normally I wake up into another dream.
Some dreams are recurring; such as this current one in which I am typing. Everything’s black and white and I’m typing at my keyboard, or reading the screen. But when I check to see the black and white I see colours for the first time. They jump out at me!

Anyway I was flying and the dream began to collapse, instead of trying to hold it together I did something different this time. I gave in. I let it fall apart. I was flying in nothingness for a few seconds before I realised there was no point to it. So I stopped flying. I began falling. There was nothing. There was only me falling forever. I felt a calm wash over me, and then a brief moment of fear as I supposed that perhaps I might be falling forever… and all the implications that this would have.
Falling through the void; I couldn’t quite decide whether it was the sweetest serenity or the deepest despair. It didn’t really matter either way. I was here and there was nothing I could do and so I just gave in. I was falling forever in the infinite… and there was nothing. It was heaven. After sifting through nirvana for an indeterminate amount of time I woke up into another dream, and the first thing I did was tell my friends about the falling.

We were staying at a farm for the weekend. I got up and told them about my dream and we discussed it for several minutes. Just as the conversation was getting philosophically interesting a meteorite crashed nearby. There was no time to react. It was such a sight to take in. An alien entity emerged and infected the dog. We all panicked and ran for it. I ran into a fenced-off corner. I tried to climb the fence but barbed wire prevented me from escaping. I was trapped, and I soon realised I was the last one left. I knew there was nothing I could do. One touch is all it would take and so I gave in. I was scared, but as the alien life form infected me with its being I was informed on a subconscious level that the alien would be me. I felt a change for a brief second, and then I was normal again, apart from now being part alien. I had my memories. I looked the same. I was only different on a molecular level. I felt like me, and so I say I was still me. Almost all the cells in the human body are renewed within seven years. Every seven years I am a different person on a molecular level, yet I am still me. I’m about to wake up.

I woke up in a world falling to pieces. I was in an Asian city. The sky was falling, and the ground beneath the city was crumbling. It was too late and I was trapped on a building sinking into the lava. The lava came up from under the city to swallow it. I looked around for any way out, but instead I just saw person after person screaming in agony, trying to live for as long as possible. I saw one person who was badly burnt. His leg was destroyed. He was on the roof of a building which was sinking into lava. He was screaming in agony. I wondered to myself why he just didn’t fall off into the lava and end his suffering. I suppose I did the same as him. I held onto my life as long as I could…

I woke up and it was the same city. But it was ten minutes before the cataclysmic events would begin. I banded with a group of young people and using a map I found the quickest way to escape from the city. We sprinted for the whole journey. Time was not on our side. We had to go through a building to get to the last street. As me and another person sprinted through it we came out on the other side to find that the others were no longer with us. We had no idea if they were in front of us, behind us, or somewhere else. We kept running. There was no time to wait. As we made it to the outskirts of the city we saw that a mass evacuation was in operation. I ran into a shop and quickly grabbed supplies. As I came out I realised I was alone. The wind began to grow stronger as the destruction began in the city. I was safe, but the strong wind caught my scarf and blew it away. I ran a few steps forward but then stopped knowing my scarf was gone. I didn’t have time to chase it. I wanted to, but the wind took it so far so fast. I ran down to the docks where the last boat was taking off. I was only wearing a t-shirt and feared that when night approached the temperature would drop. When I asked about the boat that was leaving I was told there would be another one in a few hours. I didn’t get on the first boat. I did not trust that it would be safe to cross a body of water when the world had become so destructive.

I hung around the docks waiting. It was now dark. The sky looked black with a hint of green. The last boat came in. It was small and flimsy and looked like it would easily capsize if a wave hit it. The air was still and the waters were calm, and with slight indecision I decided to get into the boat. I worried that the lava would perhaps flow all the way out here. This felt like my only option. The boat was quickly overcrowded and we slowly made our way to the other side of the body of water. It was a long journey. The sky was black and the stars shone bright. There was a slight warm breeze. The water remained still; if it hadn’t we would have all surely drowned.

Later on after more travelling I was on land again. I was with some friends. We had no plans on what to do. Just gather supplies. It was still night. The stars were beautiful, but the weather was cold. I decided to gather fire wood. There was not much good wood about. One of my friends suggested smoking some marijuana and enjoying the stars.

I was not ready to lower my guard down, and so I said “Maybe in a bit.”

After searching for firewood and finding not much, the black blanket that covered the sky was removed. It was daylight. The sun was high in the sky. I saw now what was happening. The blackest clouds hung in the sky, and when they blocked out the sun it was the blackest of nights. The sun was covered again in a matter of minutes and it was too dark to see. I waited for the any hint of light. Eventually it came again. This is when I noticed that the amount of flies was increasing. My face began to itch. The flies were eating me alive. What sort of world was this? I found some bug spray in an abandoned home and then made my way back to the camp. I would apply the bug spray there and then hide in my tent.

We travelled by boat again and came to an island. There were buildings on the island and perhaps supplies. A mental compulsion took over me. It also took over one of the other travellers. A black cat came up to me and tried to sleep near my head. I wanted to suffocate under the cat’s fur, but I managed to shoo the cat away in a brief moment of sanity. The other traveller died; he killed himself in some other bizarre manner. I was almost panicking myself to death when a doctor revealed to me that I was infected with a disease. The disease created a mental compulsion; a need to do something and the more you gave in the more your heart raced until cardiac arrest. I need to hold people. I needed to grab them. I couldn’t stop. I was mad. I was shouting at people to get away from me as I grabbed them. Eventually I gained control, every so often wanting to grab someone. Another boat arrived to the island with some of my friends on it. I told them about the disease. We were probably all at risk to infection. Suddenly one of them grabbed me and would not let go.

I was shouting “Let go of me! Get off of me! You’re killing yourself! And me!”

Eventually I shook them off. We were both somewhat more sane but also aware of this mental compulsion taking over. It would only be a matter of time until we succumb to this. Someone suggested marijuana; it was the only drug we had access to. I already knew that marijuana was used to treat a wide variety of diseases; it was anti-inflammatory, anti-viral, anti-fungal, and anti-bacterial. Perhaps there was hope. We smoked and set up camp, and a few days later no one was experiencing symptoms anymore. I thought about the mechanism of actions that marijuana might have employed to fight off this disease. It cut the edge from this bizarre mental compulsion; a need to be close to others. To grab them and then never let go… Is that what she is? Some sort of disease from another world trying to burrow its way into my subconscious? Or is she something more basic… I need to find her. I need to question her. When I write about her she hides. Perhaps writing changes her from fact into fiction; something not real. She is something that sits between the reality we perceive and that which we don’t.

My scarf blew away in my dream. Now I find it in a not so usual place… on the other side of this waiting room.

Narrator: This world is harsh but the character survives until almost succumbing to this disease.
The now acknowledged madness is logically explained like some sort of disease; one that takes control over the mind of the infected.
Does excessive love kill?
 

True Love

Love has many meanings
But there is that true love that defies definition
You read it in literature and see it on film
But it seems beyond the human condition
It seems unreal
Too potent and powerful to exist
It makes you feel crazy like you’ve lost your mind
And that’s because perhaps you have lost your mind
We often live our lives following what we think
But love doesn’t think
It feels and it does
Perhaps it is sanity to do as you feel
Why would any sane individual do otherwise?
The mind tells you what NOT to do
This is out of fear and lies
The heart tells you what to do
This is out of truth and love
This true love has no gender
It has no language
It is not skin deep
It is not lust
It is not attraction
Intimacy nor infatuation
It is not finding happiness in another
It has no motive
It has no reason
It is blind as it does not see obstacles
This love only moves forwards
It makes you want to change
Not for someone else
But for yourself
It has no jealously
No anger
No sorrow
There is nothing negative attached
Anything negative is merely an illusion of the mind
These are the fears that hold us down
When we follow our hearts we are unshackled from these fears
This love makes you free
But above all this love is beyond words
It is beyond definition
It is beautiful

Narrator: But really love was a drug, and the Dreamer was off his face.

Flying

As you look down,
Ready to spread your wings and fly,
You suddenly realise,
You were always flying,
And you always will be

Narrator: Flying and falling.
What is the difference?

The difference

The story comes to a conclusion
That is our delusion
Each story weaves its own tapestry
Threads left undone
Will surely rise like the morning sun
The story is but a growing gallery
Each thread an actuality
Leading to an eventuality
The ever approaching impossibility

Held together by tough sinews
The endless cycle continues
But what if we change a single thread?
Its forces are widespread
Can we make the endless cycle dead?

A group of people succeed as the story ends
But the endless cycle continues
No story ever truly ends
Each story weaves in an out
With unforgotten threads and sinews

A planet of individuals
Held together by fate’s sinews
Engaged in an eternal war
The difference between right and wrong

Narrator: Right and wrong.
Fact and Fiction.
Reality and Dream.

It is all subjective.

To be continued...

@RiskDebonair
Irish Writer, Poet, & Lover

Previously

Dream 4
Dream 3
Dream 2
Dream 1
The Dream Before the First Dream