Dream Time.

Understanding the laws of nature is easy when you do not believe in them. Law is another word for man/woman-made. Anything man/woman-made can not possibly comprehend the incomprehensible ways of nature. This is why when I am on a walk and it starts to rain yellow and red daisies, or when I come across an insect with long wings that repeats the word “fear,” I am not surprised. I take it all in without critical judgment because I know that there is little that my human mind can comprehend when it comes to what is really taking place in the natural world. When a book begins to turn its own pages, blades of grass begin to play violin sounding solos or a stream is filled with dark chocolate- how can I argue that something unordinary is taking place. My daily ruminations speak to me of hidden worlds and I am the least surprised when rationalism breaks down. This is why when I was sitting today in a warm sulfur spring and an indigenous looking man appeared on the ledge- I was unafraid.

There are all kinds of characters that hang out by the sulfur springs. Junkies, johns, bums, hobo’s, prostitutes and car salesmen on their lunch break. At the time I was alone and certain that this was no ordinary mortal. I could see the trees through his gaunt chest. He told me that I must challenge myself to think in dream time. “I do not know what you are talking about,” I replied. “I know…. this is why I tell you,” the apparition said with a triangular smile on his transparent face. “You see me, only because you can now see in dream time, if you are always seeing this way- your heart will not be as tormented by the whims of your mind,” he said moving his elongated fingers over my head. Everything inside of my skin went numb. When I came through I was floating in the stream while chunky pieces of sulphur floated past me like scraps of plastic. I tried to stand on my two feet but the water was too deep. I clamored my way to the shore where I found my clothes and a towel. I sat on a tree stump and listened to the deep sounds of wilderness that reminded me of the plucked strings of an oud. I looked around for any kind of shape that would resemble the indigenous spirit that I may have seen and was happy to see what looked like a yellow squirrel flying across the tree tops. Clouds gathered over head hiding the shape of the sun and I smelled the damp scent of approaching rain. As I began to make my way back toward civilization I was surprised by nothing that had just happened. I was only given hope that rationality was possibly a fools tool used to comprehend the incomprehensible phenomena we know as life.


  1. Written while you were sleeping. Amazing. Fluid, slowmoving deep waters and I agree wholeheartedly with your sleeping self, logic is a form of blindness.

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