Friday, March 30, 2012

Dream reality - a thesis

     Dream reality
     When we consider our dreams in a waken state of consciousness they seem confused, often fantastic, frightening or silly and most often they seem filled with impossible convolutions of time and space. Dreams also frequently negate of the laws of physics and defy our intellectual and emotional consistency.
     Here's a brief thesis on why.
     As physical creatures we must translate our experience of reality to accommodate time and space, as Einstein describes in his specific and general theories of relativity. We "fit" into our scale in the universe through he contextual constructs of both time and space - external physical realities that are accounted for by our minds every second of every waking moment of our lives (for the most part.)
     However, time and space are corporeal constants, and are not noetic requirements. That is, our minds do not require time and space to function! Our minds only use the constructs - the formulas- of time and space, all day long, to make sense of things around us. When we sleep, we do not need time and space to think. And our intellectual and emotional fabric has been woven in our conscious life, and therefore makes sense only when filtered through time and space.
     Therefore, when in a dream, you find yourself jetting through time, flying, or sitting on the edge of the bed of an acquaintance with a penguin while waiting for the dance to start, you are simply recalling the confusing state (spatially and emotionally) of a thought process that is not bound by time and space. The mind is not obligated to associate the wakeful emotions and intellectual mechanisms with time/space incongruities.
    If this is the case, and the human mind can function without time/space constraints, it may only be a matter of learning to "see" beyond the habitual limits we set forth as methods to understand our physical aspect, and "re-fit" ourselves into a wider, more exotic reality.

Wednesday, March 28, 2012

Big top - part 5

     Slim and Angel didn't discuss much at all until they reached Tylor Texas. Then they briefly discussed  the worrisome pains Angel was experiencing in her back, her hips, and deep down inside.
     "... And every time I go to pee, there's a little blood," she said in a trembling voice.
     "What's it mean, Angel?" asked Slim. "Is it unusual?"
    "I don't know, Slim. We better get me to a doctor once we reach Louisiana."
    That was about it. The two were busy with their own thoughts, drawing worried pictures of reality in the clarity of the bright southern skies. It was hot. The vinyl in the car blistered and filled the thick air with burning urgency. 
     Angel tried to fix her thoughts on what she might find familiar in Louisiana, with a baby, looking for work as the Family Gus. She chewed on her lip, rubbed her belly and listens to Slim grind the gears of the old ford. She pictured herself up on the wire, perfectly balanced, at home with herself, somewhere high and far away.
     "The pain is worse," she told Slim.
     "We're nearly there," he said. "Should we stop somewhere here, get some help, or go on?"
        Angel winced. "Lets go on."

     Angel got out of the car at a rest stop just short of the Louisiana state line. Slim watched her long shadow stretch and feather under the strength of the setting sun. Slim traced that shadow as it slipped across the packed earth, felt it tremble, and for an instant recognized the subtle shift in its shape that betrayed the geometry of time,  the complexities of space. He watched her sandals snap at her narrow heels as they groped after that shifting shadow. Sorrow overwhelmed him, frightened him, diminished his anger long enough to allow him to recognize that he hadn't felt sad in a long time. A very, very long time. Slim wept alone in the car and later, after Angel had limped slowly from the shadows of the darkened rest stop with  one hand cradling the pain in her abdomen, they wept together before heading for the border, just the two of them.
     "I'm sorry," said Slim.
     "I'm sorry too,"said Angel.
     "We just gotta keep trying," he said.
     "We will, Slim. We will."

Thursday, March 1, 2012

Bigtop - part 4

Angel walked out of the crumbling toilet at Buckbone's Gas & Feed Station with her hair rough-hewn, close to her ears. The little stuff left was left dyed bubblegum pink. Below a vengeful, sloping brow Angel's steady eyes measured the landscape that surrounded her. Fury curled the corners of her razor-thin smile.
            Buckbone himself got a split-second view of the inside of that poor wreck of a room between the time the door flew open and when it slammed shut again.
            "Seems like," Buckbone sneered, "that lady owes me some money for setting off some kind of girlie-bomb in our public toilet."
             Four dusty men sitting on a plank of lumber beside him nodded quietly, squinting at the shock of pink bird strutting toward the broken down vehicle rattling restlessly in the unpaved lot.
            Slim leaned over and, with one finger, pushed the passenger door open for Angel. "I think you'll want to hop in quickly before these fellas get a look at what I just saw in that rest room."
            "By the looks of it," she sneered, eying the short parade heading for them, "they seen it."
            And that's how Slim and Angel set off, southward, from Haysville, Kansas: Falling angrily, broke, pink, pregnant and in flames, with the failures of their own pasts weighing on them and little more than the truth ready to cushion the plunge on the bottom side.