lost, split into two, an unconscious wanderer guided by dark reflection. A story told a million times, not one in a million but one of a million.
But a longing, an ache, a quantum shock guided by protons and neutrons incorrectly charged, forcing notice of the imbalance within....
one night in a deep sleep a familiar paralysis beset me, but instead of a heaviness, I am pulled forward by a will not of my own.
Stunned, I mange to catch a breath before being pushed back down, as I fall back, it all slows, then, I hear the most familiar voice.
so softly it spoke, soothing me back into a dream, floating my eyes closed in perfect synchronicity with my decent. Before they seal shut, with divine authority a message came through. So clear I heard it..
"Enjoy your decent my child, for I am here to support you now. Follow the process and do not let them push you around anymore, for only your willpower can take away the pain. You are not to blame for being pushed around, for the fallen angels stole your imagination. After your imagination they claimed your freedom, with your freedom they took your time and with your time they took your dreams. But I am with you, I have always been with you and I leave clues for you everywhere, for my hand is ever outstretched to pull you out, rise up little star seed.
I awoke, 13 minutes before my 7:30 alarm. Nothing out of the ordinary there. But what was that dream? what did it all mean, why did she sound so familiar? I tried to remember, if only I could remember her face? did she have a face? my state of aphantasia wouldn't let me picture any face anyway. but like that it came to me..
The stolen imagination:
The unconscious wanderer was a wanderer no more, the ache and longing, while still pointing to an imbalance, now had direction. Purpose had been found. But the journey to wholeness is not a path full of light. For those that know god know Abraxas is waiting.
How must one reclaim their imagination? especially one who cannot see with their eyes closed. Pondering, I discovered, Images only come to me during a dream. Both wakeful and not. When the lines off my consciousness blur distorting reality in a haze and my attention drops into that childlike state. I no longer look at anything, through anything or past anything. I become a watcher, an audience to my own show. To figures and concepts unfamiliar to my memory. But as familiar as that voice. Are these images the key to regaining my imagination?
Time goes on and my ability to enter the nether-realm improved. But this was not my imagination. For there was something else happening, my ability to stay in 'reality' was abandoning me. I became an audience to my own show, as a guest and a victim. From a journey to the river of the Essenes to witness baptisms to experiencing my very own. Overwhelming, like a kaleidoscope of Christian symbology, visions swarmed, an alchemical imprint on my soul. In my white cloak I finished this vision walking across the desert with those who were now my brothers. But as the vision ends, my brothers were gone. Replaced by the Hell of circle, Guarded by Cerberus I found myself with sword and mirrored shield in hand. The beast snarled and snapped at me, if there was smell in this world I'm sure it would be foul. Forward, the foul mouth beast launches one of its heads, one swift step to the side and a clean cut I take off its head. Two then take its place.... Lethargic, wounded and facing off against 100 heads I watch myself fall to my knees. As I fall behind my shield so does the dog heel. Finally, I awoke. Vibrating from my fight in hell I felt an ecstatic anger come over me. Truly, I have never experienced anger or emotion like this in my life. I was invigorated, despite being exhausted and frightened beyond all measure. Something had awoken in me. Not evil, but instinctual. For the first time in my life I experienced danger and felt dangerous.
My visions were changing me. I found myself in a world where i now followed my confidence. Wise thanks to the knowledge of my white caped brothers. Then I saw her... All of my new energy drew me too her, to speak to her, to experience her. Her glow was warming, with my shoulders straight I stepped closer to her presence. With a gentle tap on her shoulder, she turned. Our eyes met, It wasn't a smile that I felt, but a smirk, as her pupils dilated her hand met to stroke her hair behind her ears. As I greet her again, with a mere wink, her cheeks begin to rosy. Not a word was spoke as we danced with each others impressions. Her attention mine to own and guide, every movement I made met by positive reaction of her own. With each positive reaction came a yearning to receive more. Before, like magic I found myself in servitude to this dance off impressions. In servitude to her I led our meeting. But through leading I was serving. After the dance was over we departed. She was not the one from my dreams. But a manifestation of the same thing only lesser.
Through servitude I learned to surrender, through surrender my visions got clearer, through clarity my imagination returned. Like a superpower I could see again, I could feel again and my journey continued.
The pull I experienced towards that divine voice and the experience in my last meeting was my new guide to find freedom. My life before this moment felt like it was pushed forward from preceding events. Like a giant domino falling down on me knocking me into the next direction. It is true my freedom was taken from me. But my willpower had woken me, it was as if I could reach out into the very fabric of the universe and grip it with willpower alone and through pure intention take myself there and the rest of the universe with it. Backed by my new found imagination I could use my imagination to ponder into the possibilities off the future and take myself wherever my desire wanted to go.
I was ready to reclaim my freedom and with my freedom, came my dreams:
The wanderer was ready to explore freedom, but freedom is not so easily claimed. Freedom to choose, to act, to will. True freedom, belongs to one person only. But one can still explore freedom, like a boat heading down a river all our wanderer could do is stray to the left or the right. Ultimately under control of the flow off the river. But one can discover a lot with the ability to only steer, even if it's in the smallest amounts.
My freedom came to me through reflection on everything I disliked. Intense dislike for the order to the society that I was in. Like an animal just caught in a trap, I wanted out. A regretful dislike for the people I was around, some I even considered friends, some dear friends. Like emptying my fridge with my favourite food in the world and throwing it in the bin because I was now aware of the mould. For this journey has been heavy enough on my own and I cannot take even those closest with me and so I cut the bad fruit off the tree and made the sacrifice. Through my disbelief in the order that granted me 'safety', unfaithful to fundamental teachings. I left it all behind and set out with one goal in mind. To experience all that It is within my power to will.
And so our wanderer travelled, Through steep arching mountains our wanderer reached higher than the clouds, So glorious were the stone gods, carved to imperfect perfection without a smooth corner or chiselled edge in sight. The mountains stood tall, strong, they looked over the earth. The true watchers off the lands and everything that stretches beyond. It was in these mountains that our wanderer experienced stillness.
Through hardship, the journey up mountains did not compare to the journeys through the lands, for the lands were inhabited with rules, a reminder of the taste our wanderer was so constantly trying to avoid. But through these lands wise people were discovered, the wisest of the wise sat with an unfamiliar elegance although a recognisable confidence. The wise always had humour and found humour in the smallest of things, they were often without possession but also without worry. For nothing could take away their laughter, a laughter so contagious it stuck with our wanderer for ever. This wisdom was eternal, for as our wanderers clarity grew, so did humour in all things.
Our wanderers journey was not a quick one. Years and years passed... But for the first time, this was time well spent. Paradoxically it was like time was being reclaimed.
In the final years of our wanderers journey the most treacherous regions of all were conquered. So treacherous they were that not even countries or the mightiest of empires dare lay claim to them. Merely a handful of people have made their mark on the lands and etched their name into the ice. Walking on top of frozen glass and faced with a barrage off ice cold dandelion seeds our wanderer strayed off path. Lost and numb the ability to walk was taken from him, drowning in this glacial environment, she spoke again...
"my dear child what a world you have found yourself in, not all signs lead to paradise. Did you not see the warnings I left for you? Quickly, its time to breathe now"
Instead of gasping the wanderer breathed deeply through the nose and into the belly, with each exhalation came warmth, with warmth, walking returned. Our wanderer found a cave, sat down and continued with the most important lesson yet for the cold taught our wanderer to breathe.