| abstract | - Stories are often wrought in the darkness, the immeasurable sea of the unknown. Man becomes irreversibly convinced that here lies his demise, here lies his doom and his defeat. Such is his nature that he rarely pauses to consider the other, the light, the known world. It is not in the night that this story is born, but in the searing light of day. And it is here that man comes face to face with his impending downfall. Dreams. Dreams of daylight. It seems perverted, doesn’t it? It seems wrong to sleep and yet dream of waking. It is the mind’s oldest and cruelest trick. For even in his rest, man cannot cease to live. He cannot escape the world which holds him, which tolerates him, which cradles him like an insolent child. He is forced to endure his cruel reality, whether he wants to or not. We have often speculated on the potential of the human mind, on the strength it possesses, on the ingenuity which it is capable of. We wonder at its versatility, the ease with which it adapts to new challenges and new situations. And often we claim that it is the mind which sets humanity above all else. But I warn you: your mind is not your own. It is of another realm, filled with secret, inaccessible wisdom. It is its own keeper. And, it is separate from you. Though the brain exists on this plane, the mind, the “soul,” as we name it, resides somewhere else entirely. It is what we describe as the spirit of humanity, the unseen force that has baffled us for eons. You may seem in control, but it uses you, it controls you. Your mind and your identity: two separate entities. The mind goes where the body cannot. You are but a vessel, a means of transport. You move the mind from place to place, give it root in something less ethereal, more tangible. It uses you, guides you. And it makes you its slave. The brain named itself. In sleep the mind travels. For it is in sleep that it is not bound by the tedious task of controlling its container. It may sever its ties to the material world and float about the cosmos. It can retain all of its focus, redirect itself towards showing, towards telling, towards warning. For that is what the mind truly is. That is why I share this. That is why my mind guides me to write this. Save your identity. Save yourself. Dreams are reality. Dreams are a warning. Awaken from your ignorance. See your waking world for what it truly is. Your end is near, and you know it. You fools, you have known it for centuries. Listen, listen. Your mind speaks to you. My dreams. A temple, a place to pay tribute. A place to pray and learn. This is where I am drawn. I know not where it is. The location matters little. It comes to me through different times, different eras. One dream it is made of stone, another it is nothing more than a mud hut. But it is not the appearance that matters. One thing always remains consistent as I walk the hall of that shrine: an altar, alone, in the midst of an open space. The center of the temple. The center of worship. Upon it is Light, ageless and unchanging. It echoes outward from a single point, hovering above the platform, cradled by some unseen hand. This is your mind. This is where your “soul” resides. The Light whispers to me, it whispers to you. It is a voice which, for ages, has tried to guide us toward salvation. And if you listen closely, you can understand what it says. You have seen it and heard it before, though you may not remember. Through history, it has given humanity gentle nudges toward reality. And near always, we have ignored them. Wisdom is what it shares. Great things, powerful things, but awful things too. For knowledge is powerful in the sense that in its truest form, it fills us with fear. When we heed the words of the Light and respect them, they can direct us and save us. But too often we ignore this wisdom, this fear, and remain blissfully ignorant. We are content in our foolishness, for it absolves us of problems. Over history, men have given the Light a name. They have tried to understand it, to comprehend that which knows them better than they themselves do. I have heard the Light speak these names to me, telling me how it has been known across the ages. God, Allah, Quetzalcoatl, Amaterasu. The Great and Knowing. It has gone by all of these. But our true God is the Mind, which when permitted guides us with ease through the currents of time. We have never truly grasped the message behind this force. Man has attempted to organize what he learns, or what he thinks he learns, from this entity. Thus is born religion, a force which in theory, promotes the greater good of mankind, but in all actuality leads it astray. When we organize, we take no time to heed our own identity. We are part of something larger, something formless and mindless. So focused are we on discovering the truth of the Mind that we take no time to observe its guidance. Through my dreams, I have allowed the Light to find me, to guide me. I listen and from an unknown Celestial Plane it speaks to me. Yes, I have spoken with God. I have spoken with the Mind, with Knowledge incarnated. Though its wisdom saddens me, it fills me with acceptance too. The world continues on, but its days are numbered. I have found the solution to our problems. The way to escape this awful flesh, to Know. To truly Know. The Earth’s end draws nearer by the second. You cannot hear it, the fine hum of demise which you, in your hurried actions and trivial pursuits, can never be privy to. But it is coming, and quickly. Escape back to the Light! Escape to your mind and hear what it tells you! All men have their own story, their own history. I have none. I no longer have need of my past, of my identity. I have surrendered myself to the Light. I have rejoined the Creator. I walk the halls of the temple, searching, learning. Dreams are the truest living I have ever experienced. The world is whole. Inside the temple, I am whole. Waking has become an aching journey, a tedious trek to some destination that cannot be known. Perhaps there is no destination in waking. But in dreams, there is: the Light. I must join with it, to return to my origin. I am so very cold when I awaken. My limbs are empty of the warmth that the Light offers. But in my mind, everything is as it should be. I know myself. Though I am slave to the Mind, the Light, I know myself. My identity is whole. Steadily, very steadily, I have drifted away. I have slowly departed from the waking world. I sleep for longer and longer. But no! I awaken for longer and longer, for dreams are where my reality resides. I have no need for the trivialities of this world. No need for food, no need for drink. They are nothing but sustenance for my thick limbs. My living flesh runs cooler by the day. I lay still, but I am hardly aware. What worries should I have when I am one with the Almighty? I can sleep now, for as long as I please. To rest my body and thrill my mind. If only you knew. If only you could understand the Holy Bliss that fills my veins. It is beyond living, a higher form of existence. I am happy. I am happy. Join me. Join me and save yourself. You could be safe, preserved in your dreams. The Light is beckoning us back to it. The Sun. The Sun is nearly upon humanity. I am almost gone from your reality now. Do not send for help, do not despair. For so happy am I that my heart races and my eyelids flutter. The heat of the Sun beats down onto your planet. It tears your world asunder. It grows hotter by the day. You should have heeded me. You should have listened. I can hear the screams. And I will be the only survivor of this calamity. Life is extinguished around me. My mind has entered the Light. And I will not survive in my flesh. No, my knowledge shall join the Almighty for eternity. I shall reach the human conception of Heaven, Nirvana. Peace. Everything is beginning to slow. And I? I am becoming part of the Great Known. Not the darkness that you should fear, but the Light which you should welcome. What is this? A small tremor of my body. Is it...? It is fear. Though I am confident of myself and of my journey, I still fear. That is the nature of man. The burden of my identity. But that shouldn’t matter anymore. I am the last of my foolish kind. I open my eyes for a final time, and I glimpse it. A window in the temple? And outside of it…? It is the Sun. Come now, Light. Fill me. Withdraw me from this cold existence. I can see the Earth around me break and burn. A world overturned in moments. You fools, you fools. A heat is searing through me, charring me. My veins are on fire. My existence is burning. Is it the Sun? Or is it the Light? Perhaps both. I am whole. I am at peace. It is time to sleep forever. Yes, it is time for me to die. Sweet blissful death. Say your final goodbyes. For in an hour, you shall have regretted ignoring me. In an hour, you will all be no more. This is what you fools call Divine Wrath. And it is sweeping through your kind. I must be traveling on. The Light, it calls to me. To die, to sleep; To sleep: perchance to dream: aye, there’s the rub; For in that sleep of death what dreams may come When we have shuffled off this mortal coil, Must give us pause:
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