Memories from a world I've never been to- Hallowed illusions

And so this continues my tale of memories, and that happy reminiscence of the events that surround my existence. While I think on what should befall me at the end of this tale, like I had any control over the matter, I might choose to ignore same and continue as if I had no care for the outcome of events...

8:53 pm. August 28^th, 2013

My name is Blank, and I have no history. This is strange right? But where I come from, we have no beginnings, we don't think of endings- though we happen to know quite a lot about them. We live in the present, the present being the infinite loop between what you might term beginning and end, that's where we live. Our lives are like a continuum, there're no marked points at which whatever happens. We just see them happen, and we don't wonder why. Don't ask me why, we just do not ask.

Permit me to say, my story begins in the middle- if you look closely enough you might see a beginning to it though I can't promise you that the beginning will be right where you stand from of start from, whichever S-word you feel more comfortable with. Beginnings are overrated, if you ask me. They tend to tie you to a rigid sequence of events, where one follows the other. And I love rigid. It gives you this sense of balance, control, authority over the system as it revolves round you, or you revolve round it- whichever revolves round the other.

So I begin in the middle. Call it a continuum, or an infinity loop. Yes. I think I’ll go with that, Infinity Loop. The Infinity Loop or the iLoop (not apple affiliated) is that space in time where your realities and your fantasies switch sides. I won’t call the iLoop a specific point per se; rather it is the system of switching sides by the two sides that fight so dearly for control point. Reality says ‘this is’, fantasy says ‘this should’. This makes fantasy a dream, as whatever exists outside the sphere of reality is dream. And we’ve established that dreams are extensions of ourselves, the part of us we want to be real, and we would do anything for that to happen. Dreams are realities, though not in the sense of the physical reality as we have it. Dreams are the inner wishes of our minds, our heart; the substance that fills our empty hearts as we trudge through the toils of mundane existences. So in the long run our dreams are more real than our realities, because we believe so strongly in the possibility of our dreams coming alive, than we do in the possibility of our reality going off. So we create our reality in our minds, and it’s so strong it can’t die because we won’t forget it. And death is the end of a memory. So if we don’t forget this dream, it remains alive in us until we birth it to the current definition of reality (how joyous and sad). For the moment we birth it, we are free from the groaning of a heartfelt pregnancy, and we have the pleasure of holding in our arms a wonder created by us for ourselves. And then it ends, for as quickly as the joy comes we are faced with the awareness that from then on our born dream ceases to be our own. It is now ruled and guided by the already mundane system of events. Thus we leave as quickly as we came, to wish for another set of realities, for we will never be really satisfied regardless of how many realities we are able to dream and birth. We will always be different from our reality. We will always live in our dreams, and once our dreams cross over to this plane we step out of them, meaning we step out of ourselves. Thus in living the reality of what is actually real, we leave ourselves as we forget who we really are. To forget is death, so we are dead to ourselves. We live in our dreams, we live in our fantasies. We live in the little wishes we hope to be, and that is the key word- hope.

Hope is the substance of our dreams. Hope gives our dreams life because we hope that what we dream will come to life. Hope locks our dreams in our memories such that even in this mundane and ordinary system we do not lose sight of our dream. What is remembered lives, and our dreams live in our memories; our dreams have life. Our dreams are life. We live in our dreams and our dreams live in us. So we are our dreams, sharing an existence resplendent in the beauty of what we want the dream to be.

In the long run we remain at the middle, and however far we go, however fast we run and however wide we dream, we remain at the middle. For the middle is where life is, no beginning, no end, just the middle, the iLoop. Like we know, this is where our dreams cross over to reality, where we birth our fantasies and our deepest wishes. This is the exciting part of existence, the beauty of the mind, because everything exists in the mind, in the heart. The mind and the heart become one, rational and irrational in one union. At this point we are past thinking, all thought already gone and the switch is done- another dream is birthed, glorious joy, disappears as quickly as it comes but joy nonetheless.

I guess this tells you a little about whom I am, I need not say much. All that need be said has been said; to say more is to risk redundancy. What say I then? Everything is wrapped in this one sentence: My name is Blank, and I have no history.

Reviews

[Sunflowergrl]

I loved it and this all i can say .

[Opeyemi Jide-Ojo]

thanks Sunflowergirl... really appreciate it.