Threading the Roots of Reality – A Dream
My emerging savior complex rears it's heroic head.
Sleep came heavy and fast, if not early, last night. I was trying, pushing to get more done than I could. And finally, I collapsed. Dreams were plentiful, but difficult to grasp. I only recall it being a busy night on the highway of my subconscious save for a gentle thread just before waking.
I was a stone cast into the sea and born on currents and jellyfish tentacles. Moving to and fro, fast and deep without resistance.
As I sunk deeper int darkness, I heard singing. Not whales or dolphins—there was human longing I could hear. Divers came wearing big brass helmets with anvils tied around their feet and they lowered me. As the pressure grew, the songs became clearer.
Somewhere in that darkness I grew a mouth— I was singing.
A low, winding song—half karaoke, half prayer—echoing through a cavern so vast the sound seemed to return from centuries away. The walls sparkled with jewels.
Dozens of voices joined mine, indistinct and shimmering, a chorus of ghosts or selves. Every note changed the color of the air—amber, then blue, then green— the song was pulling light through the spaced between molecules.
In my hands I held a long bolt, glowing like moonlight forged into dull chrome.Its threads were strange, intricate, hand-cut. Not something you could buy—something you would have to know how to make.
It was meant to fasten two enormous pieces of the world together. I remember turning it slowly, looking to start the ramp of the helical edge. Pressure and tilt carefully, until it caught.
Each twist felt like a heartbeat.
And above it all, the moon—bright and watchful, massive and filling the whole ceiling of the cave, which now became the night sky; a universe of stars. Her silver face clear and steady while everything else shimmered. A witness to the song.
When I woke, the melody was gone, but the feeling lingered—
that I had been part of some great joining, threading myself back into the machinery of sound and soul. The body was heavy with sleep, but the heart was humming, still echoing that room, still tuned to its luminous key.
Waken me can only assume the bolt and the song did their work as the world is still here and stable. My longing and joining having done the work of saving us all.
Companion to The Machine That Dreamed Me Awake →
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Thank you for coming here and walking through the garden of my mind. No day is as brilliant in its moment as it is gilded in memory. Embrace your experience and relish gorgeous recollection.
Into every life a little light will shine. Thank you for being my luminance in whatever capacity you may. Shine on, you brilliant souls!
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