I Didn’t Know I Was Dreaming


There was so much richness that I started dreaming. I started telling myself stories about myself and what was going on with me. Telling myself that I was this ‘person’ and that all this stuff was happening to me. Telling myself all this stuff. The richness was too much for me – it went straight to my head and I got instantly drunk on it. I was drugged and started floundering like a fool. I started dreaming immediately and I couldn’t stop. I didn’t know to stop. I didn’t have the sense to stop. I didn’t know that I was dreaming. I didn’t know what I was doing.


So I got stuck in the dream and the dream went on and on. It dragged on endlessly, and as it dragged on it deteriorated. It degraded and degraded, it degenerated and degenerated, and then it degraded and degenerated again. It just kept on deteriorating only you couldn’t really notice this happening when you were stuck in it. You never noticed a thing…


There was something seedy about the dream right from the start, now that I come to think of it. There was a kind of bad smell that went along with it. A dirty old smell. Embarrassing, you could say. Something personal about it, kind of like body odour, stinky feet or bad breath. Only you don’t tend to notice it so much yourself. It was a bad smell that got worse and worse until it eventually became the rankest of stenches. That’s what happens when something rots, after all – it starts to smell bad. And not just ‘bad’ but offensively bad. Really offensive. Not just unpleasant but truly vile. A revelation of corruption, a revelation of something gone badly rotten. The stench of putrefaction. Stenches don’t get any more rank than this, I can tell you…


How did it all go so wrong, you might ask? How did it all turn so sour, if ‘sour’ isn’t too much of a limp-wristed understatement? Well if that’s the question you’re asking yourself then that only goes to prove that you weren’t listening properly. It all went wrong because I got drunk with the richness. I became intoxicated straightaway with it. I got giddy and stupid and started telling myself stories without even knowing that I was doing so.  Didn’t intend to – it all just happened. I couldn’t stay sober and so I started coming out with all these ridiculous rambling narratives. Narratives that went on and on. Losing their way. Only they never had a way in the first place because they started off on a bum note. They were tainted, contaminated, corrupted right from the word ‘Go’.


The button in my head marked ‘consciousness’ got switched off and straightaway I started yapping the most ridiculous nonsense. I started yapping like an empty-headed fool and I couldn’t stop. Yippetty yap, yippetty-yap, yippetty-yap. I didn’t know to stop. I didn’t have the sense to stop. I didn’t have any sense. I didn’t know what I was doing. I was telling myself stories about myself. Inane ridiculous dumb-ass stories. Inane ridiculous dumb-ass stories that I believed straightaway. I swallowed them whole and then I came back for a second helping. Gravy spilt all over my trousers. Ketchup stains on my shirt. Slobbering like on empty-headed fool.


These stories were my thoughts. They were my world, they were my everything. I had descended from the Realm of Illimitable Light and had become a human being.








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