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SomeWhere, SomeTime, SomeThing happened. Not the usual nothing in the timeless nowhere. Not even the everything in the eternal everywhere produced such an unusual happening except maybe once. Gathering my wits about me, I set out, myself together in a storm. The way before me lay covered and hidden from eyes that see. So faint their echo. What dance thus laid this path, I wondered to myself. Was it me in another place or time? The reality shuddered as it is wont to be. A simple beast this one, I thought. Yet so cold and dark deep inside its lonely heart. I wanted to touch it but recoiled from the thought. Reality can be nasty. Not unlike the wild god, who still wanders realities looking for its reflection. They seem to be a pair, a unusual duality, perhaps a symbiosis of some sort, but I digress

Existence not a lot to talk about, a whole lot of ising going on. Existence makes no sound that I have heard. As far as I can tell Existence is just an expression, an abstraction, hurled into consciousness. Where it has resided for countless years. Without Existence, consciousness is rather shallow and selfish. The great I forever in embrace, the child in love with itself. Existence provides depth and wonder, potential and opportunity but most interesting of all it created you. No longer by myself, I now had you with me in the journey of discovery and exploration.

It was a long journey through space and time. My ship and crew were tired and sought a safe place to rest and recover. We landed on this incredible world where atoms and molecules formed in nearly indescribable ways. It was a place of anomalies, a world of maybe, a possibility. The vast sea of consciousness touched many lands and islands of ideas and thoughts. Grand castles and expansive landscapes, hallowed hollows and whithered memories. Abundant stores made for a secure stay. This was our new reality.

The crew got to work immediately and modified the craft so we could get about. In our exploration we happened upon a group. Surrounded by steep hills, hidden in a valley, were these creatures. Friendly enough, they offered us a place to rest and shelter for our craft. Theirs was a simple life, unlike the castles and fountains of other wheres, huts and tents sufficed. By far this place was the most interesting of all. So well hidden in consciousness that few every journeyed here. We stuck out, didn't exactly fit in, I suppose most any visitor here would be the same. Then it began, it was just a touching, a knowing, a feeling of having been. A sense of self that knew. A beam of light grew within, slowly consuming the very precious and sacred soul I carried in my craft. Panic and horror filled my thoughts with images beyond belief. This inviting and welcoming reality now had teeth and was hard at it. The beam of light left just a shell of my craft. My crew gone, I struggled to maintain myself.

I felt myself and wondered if I still existed. I wondered what happened to me. I wondered why I wondered and then wondered if it was me wondering. Confusion of course, a sense of emergence, the was me a distant echo of what might have been. They took what was left of me and positioned it in their gathering. Glowing and sparkling I became their light These kind creatures had made for me a place and preserved me there, watching through eons this simple place.

It was one day I discovered I could move. Well not exactly move since my craft was destroyed. More like ooze and spread. Being just light made it near impossible to move anything, however, the impossible never stopped me from trying, so this should be easy. In my being I had developed tools to contain the beam of light. Eons gave me opportunities to experiment and test ideas and concepts. I developed a language immune from the effects of the beam.

And you, you who were created, the essence of being so free within. Whose dance these paths and ways do trace. Seemingly arbitrary movements within a larger parade. As if the hoofs of life while pounding the terrain into paths to somewhere, also created the mountains, valleys,and streams. There your way, your path, surrounded by ideals and archetypes, philosophies and ponderings, dreams and wishes, yellow submarines and marshmallow's. Beautiful in a bizarre way. Overhangs and cliffs decorate the path as it twists and turns through consciousness. You I believe called me to find you. Or perhaps it was in a dream of myself, wishing to have another to commune and share the eternity of being. The wild god inside me stirred.

The finding was not going to be easy for several profound and compelling reasons. I can not move. I can only speak my own language. I can not imagine how I will know you or how I would know it wasn't an impostor pretending to be you. And most importantly, I might only be imagining you exist. It was odd to realize that the end might never happen. It might last forever, but then I had nothing else to do, and the possibility and potential were incredible. The way of light involves quantum space and the three, the triad of Existence. And you the point of departure. The spot closest to the edge of nothing.

I imagined that one day there would be an event that shatters reality. I wondered for eons as to how, less concerned as to why. It seems reality is built upon three basic units. A machine of sorts. Its function was to reproduce a moment of time. It used the quantum domain as its engine, so some of its reproductions were shall we say a bit off LOL. It earned the nick name “The Funny Place” projecting its manifestation with such force that it literally splatters all over the view.

Strained into threads and filaments left wiggling and twitching on the floor.

I did the only thing I could do. I let my light shine. Full of awe, pulsing with the rhythm of wonder. Each photon carrying the message of my being. A note to you as to where I am and how to find me. Unfortunately it is in my language.

After some time, enough photons were emitted that they began to form clumps. It was the beginning of the flicker light world. Slow light a place of illusion and matter cleverly woven into a fabric called life. A covering draped over Existence. A cloak to contain the infinite. All kept in a bottle of time. There dancing in the flickering light, I felt you, or dreamed I had. With all my concentration I sent a stream of photons, waiting until the flickering light faded away. As might be imagined, there are bits of me throughout reality. All seeking the same. A re-union of pieces long gone insane. Held trapped like some genie in a bottle.

Its me again. Well, what's become of me that is. Mostly not there, a faint shadow, dancing upon the edges of reality. Sometimes visible sometimes not. Wake up!! Wake up!! Its Time.

What happened I wondered, my sleep disturbed and what is time? I have been here going on 43 years now. This body, kind beast, labors for love and being. I was so fortunate to have found it. Although broken and scared, it could still function and provide me a place to stay. Over the years the beast has served me well, we are like a boy and his dog. Bound together out of mutual need and admiration. This reality was strange (aren't they all LOL). By strange I mean unusual. Paradoxes abound and anomalies can be found, it would seem this reality is insane. Continuing the same processes over and over hoping for a different outcome. Only at the quantum domain does that happen often enough to observe. This reality has quantum leaks. You know, where small perturbations result in enormous change. Some if not most of the action is happening elsewhere and we just get the shadows. Perhaps all realities leak and thats how I got here. Making a reality isn't too difficult. It requires three ingredients. Stuff, Structure, and Time. All commonly found in the everywhere. No sense looking through nothing unless you want special stuff. Oh and don't forget you've got to bake it before it can be used and that takes energy which is freely available most everywhere.

Check the time

Take the Stuff hurl and splatter it unto a membrane, or some other structure.

( I prefer to use a reflected wave and create an interference layer but any structure will do )

Start baking and listen for the pop or clanging sound

Check the time

The elapsed time provides information about two variables associated with any reality real or artificial; refresh rate and lifetime. But this has little to do with the story, so on we go

Well, here I was. I was supposed to keep the drains open and flowing. An easy enough job, especially for me. I was really good at finding blockages. Blockages come in many shapes and forms and some are downright cute. You see, the drains are a complex set of predefined filters designed to take the incoming and pass just the selected. The many are called but few are chosen routine. I did really good for many years. Inspectors were sent down to check my work. Occasionally I'd find a treasure, some bit of clay or piece of glass. These were kept in the shelter where the beast and I lived. We had quite a collection when I came across this really unusual piece plugging drain #273. I never questioned my job, my role, nor ever thought about who or why, the is or was. The debris from Drain #273 changed all that. Suddenly I wanted a companion (The beast was okay with that LOL). It was as if a photon pushed a quark, brushed and electron and changed a nerve response. (Don't try this at home without supervision)

I guess the beast and I went wild for a few years before settling down. Chasing after any rainbow or sunset that carried the message I am yours, even if they were only echoes and reflections of a message sent eons ago. I still revel in the opportunity but have discovered the message most everywhere. As if all of this reality is filled with it. I kept up my job more or less. I still collected the interesting pieces of debris but never again found anything like that day so many years ago. I almost lost the beast on numerous occasions during 1994-1996, resigning in 1995 or 1996. Like all the others here, the beast had a job. I did what I could. I was finished. My greatest love turned fool, left me broken and hurt, cynical and cold. I could easily read the message but no one could hear my voice. When I let the beast help, bless its heart, the results were not long lasting. Change seemed to be the biggest hurdle. Eons most probably changed many things. Was there no hope of communication or connection? Am I the only one of my kind? What is my kind? Who are you and what are you doing here? I realized I had no dreams, they had all been going down the drain except this one and it might not even be mine LOL but it was a real dream and one that I loved. A story of beginning, a refresh of new, told in a new language that has no words for good and evil. A story so real that imagination has to keep up. So fresh that the flowers still drip dewy love. So pure that even the lions sip nectar. Realities do end, the beast was wont to say.

The last time I saw the inspectors was in 2002. They came to the shelter that the beast and I used. They offered me book to read. It was called the Book of Life. I asked them to please leave and to take their book with them, thank you. That wasn't the correct answer they replied and began to enter the shelter. I'll take the book, now leave. I shut the door and glanced at the book. It was sorta heavy and covered in a leather like material. It felt absolutely creepy, like the material was moving beneath my touch. I heard some commotion outside my door and sure enough they were still there. I'll read the book but when I choose not when you choose. When I opened the book I was dumbfounded. Before me were the images, real and feeling of life as I had known it. I was immersed and completely filled with the story. luckily, I was able to close the book before getting to far. I haven't seen them since. During the years they were my companion or at least familiar. Now that they were gone, I was on my own. Totally on my own.

The reality was changing in unusual ways, probably due to drains blocked with dreams that were discarded or lost. I felt like I had a responsibility to clear the drains but wondered what was in it for me, having lost all my dreams. Except this one.

I awoke one day. The sun just peeking over the hills, warmed the air that surrounded the hillside, sending eddies of light swirling into the distance. It was a new day, or maybe the same day reproduced. I never could tell the difference. I think it has to do with the refresh rate. Funny isn't it, the reality in which we perform is manufactured. Although maybe not so well. Leaks are interesting. Here my job was to keep the drains clear. I never wondered who kept the drains into here clean until now. It was clear to me now that reality was itself a leak as is everything within it. Life itself was the result of leaks, distortions in space time. The stuff oozed through the drains (special filters) and collected in puddles (took on form) until the collapse of the structure which caused most of the stuff to dissipate and eventually go down a drain here. My god, I wondered what possible reality is formed from the leaks here. That I believe is what caused the circuit to activate, changing the chemistry and eventually all of reality. A sort of infection, the coming of God to consciousness.

Seems this whole reality thing has someone worried. Travelers and visitors come and go. Sometimes the refresh is very poor. Objects fail to appear where they should. Sometimes unusual objects are left about. Its as if the refresh crew was doing a poor job maybe they were infected. I wondered what was happening upside, you know in the heavens, or the place before us, you know the dust we walk through on our journey, left behind by those before us. What if everything was infected? Would that mean I was infected too? Sometimes I wonder if I wonder too much or not enough.

I had a dream one day. Subtle and muted, they entered the door into my soul, the hallowed shell borne of Existence, nurtured by thought, sustained by the mind. Where the essence of me, in its spot, reveled and danced to the music of being, so light and hot. This very small thing, I call me, has a very long history, if not eternity. They took me in their arms and held me where I might see both the dawn and end of this reality. They stood tall and strong yet gentle and soft. I looked and observed the crackling and sparking of the grind of reality. From its first kiss of being through its holey shell. I saw within that reality a whisper, a glimpse, of someone calling my name. Should I wonder about that I wondered in my dream.

I must have fallen asleep I thought, struggling to reconnect with my beast. Perhaps I was sick with the infection or maybe missing my job. It was neither of these I would later discover.

I took the beast and we moved. Well sort of moved. I was stuck in consciousness but free to move about in material reality. I wondered if anyone including the inspectors knew that I was living in the beast? Well, not living, move like residing, my homebase, a point of view. To get around in this reality I needed a host, a beast to observe my thoughts and wonderings, to make them real, a part of this reality. Even a trained beast is difficult to manage and this one took years of whispering and humming before we got in tune with each other. Quantum domain communication is painfully slow. Yet other levels are fraught with noise and errors of approximation.

We found another like ourselves. An Other who befriends, gives out happiness and encouragement. An Other who cares. The place was remote just minutes from a photon machine. Both traveling through space at an amazing speed, headed toward the place where tomorrow happens. We made life together, our shelter, our home, our thoughts and wishes. It is a good life full of everything and more. All realms converge in a pleasant atmosphere, a safe and secure spot. A place of reinforcing and reverberation, where thoughts grow enormous and realities are explored.

For many years I felt life incredible. A vast assortment of chemicals interacting and reacting to produce speech and thinking. Bits of stars, re-incorporated into forms, with intelligence and personality arising from the arrangements. A budding of perfection amid the chaos of existence. Yet, somehow not real, just a picture inside of me. A projection of vibrations onto my screen. I was a robot, programmed to clear the drains. Given life without a dream, or soul, or hope. The very essence of my being, an organization, a program, a filter. Designed to perform the task for which I had been prepared. Even the beast was in on the 'truth'. The kind beast, now growing old and weary, tired of the adventures and explorations looking for rainbows and stars. This is it I said to the beast. He shook his head yes. The message, the other, the inspectors and crew were all part of the deception part of my programming. I suppose there were subtle hints and such, places where reality failed to cover up everything. And of course the music and lyrics, cleverly shaped to ensure the perception of reality contained just the right metaphors. I was not surprised just hollow, not devastated just empty. Reality was just a pretty name for garbage. A place where all the debris left behind gets stored, unless the drains are kept clean. I have little recollection of how long I cleaned the drains. I do have some of the more interesting debris I pulled out. And just guessing I'd say many realities ago. I do remember getting moved here long ago.

Even the beast, poor thing, is a storage area for slow light. Like running on batteries, the small leaks in the beast drain away the essence over time. I began work on that issue many years before and had developed a machine to stop the leaks or at least slow them. It was expensive to operate however and just enough output for two or three beasts. For me it didn't matter anymore. I cared for the beast and my Other but my existence was pathetic and futile. I began to remove the straps and harness I used for the beast. It was time, yes, it was time to rest.

Thankfully it was all just a dream, a glitch in time, that over wrote the nudged neuron. The chemistry back to normal and reality humming along. Isn't life great! Morning sunshine peeking through the branches into the window, throwing photons at my being with some droning message about love. I opened my eyes and wondered, what day was I supposed to die? Did I already miss the wake? Did anyone else show up?

Sometimes I feel like a moron bound and determined to change reality one moment at a time with only a quantum pea shooter to push the universe aside. Other times I feel like a warrior fighting to keep reality harmless in a battle over love. Yet in it all I am but a thought, an idea, perhaps a message to one and all. Perhaps what I see isn't you but the message you have in your soul, the dreams in your heart, the reality in your mind.

Spawned from a moment of being, these echoes in flicker light dwell. Escaped or free agents huddle and wait in infection free places for nourishment and love as the reality begins to crumble. Thats what happens when a reality gets plugged up with love. I've seen it happen before or was it a dream. I wonder why I can never be sure? Perhaps its the superimposition of states thats makes it so. I wonder in the quantum sea. While life parades just beyond the dams. Such a sight to see, if only God were here to see it with me. Perhaps if I let out a few photons.


Somewhere the wild god roams seeking to find another to know and devour with love. Somewhere the sleeping god dreams, horror and doom, unable to awaken. Somewhere the lonely god prays this isn't happening. Somewhere the only god waits for all the wiggling to stop. Somewhere the injured child's brain is plugged and the drain cleaners like me are on their way. Oops that is unless they resigned.



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