Dreamtime in a Parallel Universe - prose

Dreamtime in a Parallel Universe

In the reverie of writing, its like I’m dreaming it, as if I actually believe in fact it is possible, could be possible to be understood; that the words could fit together in streams of concise consciousness that are understood by everyone, anyone, easily accessible – even if not agreeable and that once awake one would remember the revelations or little tidbits of useful stuff and use it somehow to live, like food eaten, it would be taken in and transformed into what comes next and what’s not useful is let go of and so it goes.

In the reverie of reading Its like I’m dreaming it, as if I experience in fact that its not possible, impossible to be understood, that the words despite their lovely brilliant arrangement, their rhymes and rhythms, everyone nodding along enchanted but the words though concise streams of consciousness are not in fact understood by everyone, anyone, maybe and especially not even me, as I turn each phrase 15, 30 or 90 degrees and it alters the meaning of before and after, the revelations that come or little tidbits of useful stuff were like that time coming down from tripping when Cerise said “Oh God, I can see it all so clearly now – if only I still knew what it was!” And so it is unusable, ungraspable, can’t get it cross that blood brain barrier, dissolves like water running through my fingers I try to hold onto it and despite my best efforts it alludes me, alludes my listener, my reader and so there is nothing useful or nourishing to take in. Like the movie Ground Hog Day where the drama repeats, repeats, repeats and is forgotten. I and the whole human race remember and forget, repeat and forget... The reading part of me says – there, it’s in those journals and note books and history books – unopened, forgotten, I mean really, history’s boring.

The reveling writing part of me says quiet now, quiet, Ok...GO – and from somewhere, comes either truth or distortion depending on the universe I’m in and when I look at it - it can be discerned - but it has to be looked at, heard, attended to – and often, in the reading universe the attention span, mine, yours, ours is too pressed to pay attention.

Jesus said stay awake with me! Won’t anyone stay awake with me?! But no, he was surrounded by readers who drifted off as we do in our reading reveries.... Buddha says awaken to your own true nature, breathe in and know that you are breathing in, breathe out and know that you are breathing out – and sometimes I am in that world and knowing it and next thing I know I’m not. I’m not knowing and have forgotten even this simple pure thing.

Normally after thinking like this for a while – this too is boring and my attention wanes to something in the next stuff of consciousness. All day today – since last night it has troubled me that these are the limits of my attention in either world.


C. H. 1-22-08 Burlington Writers Group at Parima, Burlington, VT