What’s the point?
What. Is. The. Point.?
It’s not as if we go. Is it?
I always come back. Don’t you?
Of course ‘eventually’ might only be a couple of seconds.
Might be a couple of centuries.
When do you stop counting?
When does it stop?
Counting how many times you pass the point of no return only to return.
Because we always come back.
Push on the membrane. It gives.
The more you push, the more the resistance.
Until it doesn’t.
It just gives.
It pushes back. And back. Resisting your desire. And then not.
Through to the other side. Past the point of no return.
Except you do return. Don’t you. Don’t you?
You return from beyond the point of no return.
Or do you arrive?
Maybe that – whatever ‘that’ is – is?
Maybe that is reality?
Maybe this is the dream?
Does it matter?
My reality is a construct of my mind. So is my dream.
Why are they different? Are they?
I can’t remember dreams. I don’t. I do.
It’s the recall that is faulty.
The storage is just fine.
The dreams have started jumping the membrane.
It’s happening more.
The ‘recalls’, when they happen, feel different. Are different. Different to reality.
To what I understand to be reality.
At least they used to. Boundaries are blurring.
Is this dream in my head?
I do recall they are different. Generally. There is no connection.
But that can be true of a dream.
Pushing past the point of no return.
Through the membrane. The gossamer.
Then you don’t.
The gossamer softens over time.
It depends on the direction.
It’s getting harder on the return journey.
It is harder on the return journey.
Harder makes it harder.
One day it will be too hard.
The soft giving gossamer giving way to the hard unforgiving rubber.
Soft gossamer. Hard rubber.
Wondering when I will forever push past the point of no return.
Your pain is the breaking of the shell that encloses your understanding.
~George Bernard Shaw
I wrote the first draft of this one morning after a dream. And there it sat until a couple of weeks ago.
Die on it by SMBC Comics. Same wavelength.
And because no article seems to be complete without a reference to A.I. (note – the only writer involved in this piece was me – not so much this one, which on reading brought tears to my eyes.