The Unwanted Illusion

A Story by Abishai100

A video-game aficionado has a dream-vision of a Siren and makes for the discovery of simplified Earthling jam (perhaps of valor).

A religion-centric baseball story, with allegories for video-game culture, a modernism phenomenon,

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I was obsessed with collecting classic baseball video-games as a wannabe-athlete, and maybe it's because the diamond fields game of batting and fielding for 9-inning magic had become an American map of consciousness for the Ego (damn). Well, all this 'work' with baseball cyber synthetics drew me to a dark reality in my dream-sleep vision (Selfie-like).

There I was, spending Saturday evenings playing for hours on varied systems for classic baseball cyber-games, and I knew video-games had become a home-life 'consciousness' for synthesized brain-food or consciousness indulgences, and I knew I'd become something of a wizard or mental scribe of this very unusual Earthling pastime for the passages of time and normal work (wow).

SIREN: Do you see me in your dream-sleep vision, prince of Earth?
ME: This is surely some dream and nothing of the Realism sort, lady.

SIREN: I'm a woman of hypnosis, of that unnamed consciousness for Ego.

ME: Are you referring to the Ego as vanity or Freudian Ego (Id, etc.)?

SIREN: Whichever, prince of video-games (ok?).

ME: What's this dream-vision concern, if I'm to think it's Realism, lady?
SIREN: I'm a femme-messenger from the other-side of the universe!
ME: What?
SIREN: Your preponderance for hours of video-game play of baseball is IQ.

ME: It's what for you?

SIREN: I present myself as a gorgeous goddess for your illusion, prince.

ME: You're the Devil.

SIREN: Ha, no just an alien of sorts...intrigued by your boyish obsession.

ME: You're like rewarding me for being a baseball cyber-nerd/junkie?

SIREN: Something like that...but I want you to write a story about me.

ME: Fiction?

SIREN: Make it seem like fiction, and keep my insinuations a secret, man.

ME: I get it...this is some test to prove I think through the game-sinews.

SIREN: For the Ego (Facebook-like).

ME: Thanx, I guess (farewell, lady).

When I woke from this lucid illusion-rich dream-vision the next-day, I decided to scurry to my local beloved cemetery in my home-town and began to pray, as an Algerian-American Bostonian-Catholic citizen of the American Homeland, praying (and hoping!) that my incomplete-distances readings to the message (or meaning) of the visitation by that specter-lady (or siren?) envisioned in my dream-sleep was simply a construct of Realism made angst by my cyber-play of great time/hours spent on Saturday evenings (ha). I knew as a praying Catholic, having read the Bible, and becoming quite-fond of it, that it was an Earthling wisdom to think that the Siren's message about sports and video-games and writing about her as simply a lifestyle-oracle of mystery was preferred to indulging too much in that idle fancy that recreation was something that helped my human race evade mortal thoughts (for the Ego).

DIARY_ENTRY: "The Siren-lady was simply a lifestyle arrow-messager, and I had become some cyber-age diplomat for my Selfie-age of readings for consciousness or vanity or time spent or not wasted...I made myself mini-cheesesteaks and promised to attend a baseball game in a stadium or perhaps just throw a baseball around in my backyard or perhaps buy a real magical baseball-card for personal fanfare/happiness...I decided life's borders informed the (Catholic?) heart of the food of havens (if only for leviathan/uncertainty).'