I was dreaming, floating on a sea of peacefulness. Each muscle tingled with that almost-ache of blissful relaxation as I found myself to be both participant and observer in the unfolding dreamscape.
In my ecstatic state of detached relaxation I found it hard to focus on the content of the dream. It played out before me in a series of apparently magical and only semi-connected scenes, populated with people I have not seen in decades and with people I have never yet met. I was sure the dream had meaning and direction but I found that I could not hold myself to it, instead immersing myself in each pool of expansive time, not particularly interested in anything beyond the immediate sensual experience.
After a while I felt myself moving closer to consciousness, becoming more observer and less participant. Morning, I knew, could not be far off. As I came to this awareness, a voice, male, spoke next to me, apparently also observing the still-unfolding tableaux. "Is this what you want?", the voice asked, a little severely, like a chiding parent, or perhaps an older, "wiser" brother. "Will you sacrifice the whole narrative thread of meaning in order to pursue your dream of discovering what lies outside linear time?" There was a pause for effect before it continued. "What you seek is madness. You will lose the whole meaning and purpose of life if you continue."
For a moment I hesitated, startled. Was that true? Would my quest truly dissociate me from the functional ability to understand the world and my place within it? Would gravity dissolve and leave me entirely cast adrift? Briefly I entertained the possibility of abandoning foolishness in favour of the reassuringly predictive pathway offered by logic and reason. But then compassion arose within me for this fearful voice, trying so hard not to be lost and discarded after so many years of faithful service. I found myself smiling.
"I would risk this if necessary, yes. I would risk losing what I have for the sake of what I have already lost. I seek not to substitute but to extend. I welcome back what is mine." I paused a moment in turn. "I choose this." My words remained soft but were also a triumphal declaration.
Neither of us spoke again but I felt the continued presence breathing evenly beside me. I floated on the sea of peace into morning.
In my ecstatic state of detached relaxation I found it hard to focus on the content of the dream. It played out before me in a series of apparently magical and only semi-connected scenes, populated with people I have not seen in decades and with people I have never yet met. I was sure the dream had meaning and direction but I found that I could not hold myself to it, instead immersing myself in each pool of expansive time, not particularly interested in anything beyond the immediate sensual experience.
After a while I felt myself moving closer to consciousness, becoming more observer and less participant. Morning, I knew, could not be far off. As I came to this awareness, a voice, male, spoke next to me, apparently also observing the still-unfolding tableaux. "Is this what you want?", the voice asked, a little severely, like a chiding parent, or perhaps an older, "wiser" brother. "Will you sacrifice the whole narrative thread of meaning in order to pursue your dream of discovering what lies outside linear time?" There was a pause for effect before it continued. "What you seek is madness. You will lose the whole meaning and purpose of life if you continue."
For a moment I hesitated, startled. Was that true? Would my quest truly dissociate me from the functional ability to understand the world and my place within it? Would gravity dissolve and leave me entirely cast adrift? Briefly I entertained the possibility of abandoning foolishness in favour of the reassuringly predictive pathway offered by logic and reason. But then compassion arose within me for this fearful voice, trying so hard not to be lost and discarded after so many years of faithful service. I found myself smiling.
"I would risk this if necessary, yes. I would risk losing what I have for the sake of what I have already lost. I seek not to substitute but to extend. I welcome back what is mine." I paused a moment in turn. "I choose this." My words remained soft but were also a triumphal declaration.
Neither of us spoke again but I felt the continued presence breathing evenly beside me. I floated on the sea of peace into morning.