REVIEW DISCOURSE & DISCUSSION, take the test at the bottom to join the ranks as a member of the golden table.
“Did Xavier ever leave his bed? Does it matter? Who’s to say what dreams, wake, and sleep are? And who suggested those distinctions in the first place?”
“What does your playground look like today?”
A One way street to the present
When the sun rises and incriminating beams of morning light start their journey, the night begins to disappear. One must draw the shades to escape the knowledge that dreams are but illusion. Such was my sleep that after an eternity, there came this violation of my eyelids. Its rays poked insistently, broadcasting annoyance in an ever-growing eagerness, moving each beam as a clock moves its hands. A few minutes went by before the light had its way.
I was now aware of my surroundings.
My dreams may have been long, and I may only have got a few minutes of actual deep sleep. Sometimes I’d wake up soaked, drenched with sweat right down into the mattress. I’d wring out the pillowcase and throw the sheets over the top of my RV to let them dry. I don’t know if others dreamt like this.
Waking confident that the storm was over I rejoiced, but not so loud as to antagonize the gods. Scooting to the side, I struggled to roll uphill off my bed. Evidently, I’d busted the springs from tossing and turning. I pulled myself up and went to the medicine cabinet. Boldly, I looked into the mirror. It reflected the view of a vivid, washed-clean blue sky. Patina sun streamed through the blinds. I stumbled into the kitchen, stepped over my mother’s old prayer rug, and prepared to make a cup of joe.
As usual, the crows were making a racket, cawing, clicking and burbling.
The air smelled fresh. I was ready for a new day. Instant coffee now scented the air. I grabbed a stale bagel and made my way to the door.
I took a deep breath. “Ah, today,” I said. Yes, I had plans, and like I said, I wasn’t always going to be a carny.
Each step was an eternity in satisfaction.
This was going to be a great day.
I took another breath and took another step. Light squeezed through the windowpanes, filling the trailer with bright expectation. My hand gripped the door handle and pulled.
The door was jammed.
I tried again, forced my shoulder against it to see if it would open.
Still nothing.
Not an issue—I’d go through the sky light, jump off the roof and open it from the outside.
I scurried up and pushed open the translucent window.
There are landmarks in one’s life where the road is too narrow to turn your trailer around and there’s nowhere to go but ahead. Choices are made, and no other action can divert you from your destination.
As I stuck my head out the hatch, not a tree, plant, structure of wood, metal or concrete was visible… anywhere.
The horizon stretched wide, uninterrupted by any telephone pole, landform, house or antenna—as flat as the world before we wrapped it around a globe. Lines and swirls from the storms waters engraved the thick and muddy soil. And of that pesky pair of crows, there was only one—Gamesh.
Her leg was caught in the vent of the air conditioner. I reached over to release her and she pecked me good. Ignoring the pain, I pried her scaly leg free. Reflecting the depth of the flood that raged throughout the evening, her black eye cast a grudging ‘thank you.’
As she launched into the sky, I saw her catch a current and flip.
When the sun shone down and bounced off the edge of her black wing, a flash of light reflected from her plumage.
She didn’t try to fly—she just flew.
She didn’t try to be happy—she was the ecstasy of freedom.
Before awakening that morning, I’d imagined myself in any moment I liked, watching and thinking about the torrent when I should’ve been immersed in it. Only in our imaginations were we exempted to fly without wings and soar without wind, riding the currents of our distinctions. Observing her, I knew neither of us was free to live in any moment but the present one.
The crow’s wing rolled, and like the reflection of a lightly disturbed pond, shimmered with glittering reflections.
She sailed through the sun.
Her black beak flashed with light from the star that warmed her back.
Would she come back?
It didn’t matter.
All was calm.
Like a newborn, I felt oneness...
I tell you, there was nowhere outside that moment I needed to be.
“Salvation only ‘exists’ as a need in duality. Ultimately, there is no need for salvation. It may take a month or a trillion years, yet the soul always finds a way home... to the present... if that’s what it desires. Remove consent from those who say you’re not in your beauty.”
