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I dreamt once of falling, falling, through the tales of my life; and everything was dim, and my truths were twisted, distorted into beings of fantasy, of light, and of darkness. I saw then that this was because my eyes, though turned inward, had yet to cleanse themselves of the dust of illusion, which is the nature of existence, and which, though neither good nor bad, is an obstacle to the perception of the truth. Thus, when I looked upon my truths of vision, I recognized that these were doubly mine, for they were formed not only of experience, but of illusion, and the dreamings of my mind. And I acknowledged, in dream, that this was neither good, nor bad. Determined, however, in the view of my understanding, flawed as it was through its passage into my-self, through my-self, I looked about me for the eye of my beholding, that I might wash it clean with the realization of its folly, and I saw that I was within the eye of my perception, and that it was in me, and that in ultimate reality, my Self was the essence, and the quintessential embodiment of the eye of my perception, which was clouded through the veil of existence, but which possessed the power to see into the depths of the universe, and into the sacred mysteries of the cosmic heart. Therefore, I reached outside myself, into the vastness of the universe, and inside myself, into the intricacies of my heart, and found there my eyes, and wiped them clean. Held in my hands, within the clasp of my fingers, blind I saw, as my eyes saw, the pulsing of the veins through my fingers, webbed and branching bridges, filled with the blood of my heart, which was life, which was the essence of the universe; for within every speck of nothingness, I saw, were the seeds for a thousand, thousand universes, of boundless life. And I saw, in that moment in dream, that there is no end to nothingness, and so is no end to life, even in the midst of all absence. Seeing this, I released my eyes, and my sight returned to me; and I saw through it my distorted truths. And before the sight of the eye of my perception, cleansed of the fog of life, which had clung to it unceasing, from the moment of my birth, free of all illusion, I for the first time beheld myself; and I wept, in joy, and in sadness, for I saw then that what I had perceived as the distortions of illusion, were in reality, but the essence of my truth, tilted so, that the light of my perception would scatter upon them, shattering into a thousand fragments of reflected hues, and that these were not the images of falsehood, but rather my Truth, colored in the truth of my perception, into a form that I could understand, within the illusion, that is the nature of existence. I saw this, and wept, and in weeping, my heart was cleansed, and my soul was freed of the burden of existence, and of perception. Adrift then in the nothingness of my Being, I recognized that I was not, and yet, that I was, unique in the vast glory of the oneness of my soul with the soul of the universe, which is the light of all souls, future, past, and present, as it is One soul, of all, above all, within all, which is Love, and Truth. I saw this, in the nothingness of my being, which was in truth, everything, as it was nothing, in time and out of time, in the glory of change in stasis, and stasis, within change. I saw this, in that moment, in dream, outside of all moments, in the circle of time; and I woke, to the illusion of the world, forgetful as always, as to the nature of Dream.
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Dec 29, 2016
Dec 29, 2016 at 1:31 AM UTC
Surrealist Dream of Illusion, as the Essence in Part of Truth
I dreamt once of falling, falling, through the tales of my life; and everything was dim, and my truths were twisted, distorted into beings of fantasy, of light, and of darkness. I saw then that this was because my eyes, though turned inward, had yet to cleanse themselves of the dust of illusion, which is the nature of existence, and which, though neither good nor bad, is an obstacle to the perception of the truth. Thus, when I looked upon my truths of vision, I recognized that these were doubly mine, for they were formed not only of experience, but of illusion, and the dreamings of my mind. And I acknowledged, in dream, that this was neither good, nor bad. Determined, however, in the view of my understanding, flawed as it was through its passage into my-self, through my-self, I looked about me for the eye of my beholding, that I might wash it clean with the realization of its folly, and I saw that I was within the eye of my perception, and that it was in me, and that in ultimate reality, my Self was the essence, and the quintessential embodiment of the eye of my perception, which was clouded through the veil of existence, but which possessed the power to see into the depths of the universe, and into the sacred mysteries of the cosmic heart. Therefore, I reached outside myself, into the vastness of the universe, and inside myself, into the intricacies of my heart, and found there my eyes, and wiped them clean. Held in my hands, within the clasp of my fingers, blind I saw, as my eyes saw, the pulsing of the veins through my fingers, webbed and branching bridges, filled with the blood of my heart, which was life, which was the essence of the universe; for within every speck of nothingness, I saw, were the seeds for a thousand, thousand universes, of boundless life. And I saw, in that moment in dream, that there is no end to nothingness, and so is no end to life, even in the midst of all absence. Seeing this, I released my eyes, and my sight returned to me; and I saw through it my distorted truths. And before the sight of the eye of my perception, cleansed of the fog of life, which had clung to it unceasing, from the moment of my birth, free of all illusion, I for the first time beheld myself; and I wept, in joy, and in sadness, for I saw then that what I had perceived as the distortions of illusion, were in reality, but the essence of my truth, tilted so, that the light of my perception would scatter upon them, shattering into a thousand fragments of reflected hues, and that these were not the images of falsehood, but rather my Truth, colored in the truth of my perception, into a form that I could understand, within the illusion, that is the nature of existence. I saw this, and wept, and in weeping, my heart was cleansed, and my soul was freed of the burden of existence, and of perception. Adrift then in the nothingness of my Being, I recognized that I was not, and yet, that I was, unique in the vast glory of the oneness of my soul with the soul of the universe, which is the light of all souls, future, past, and present, as it is One soul, of all, above all, within all, which is Love, and Truth. I saw this, in the nothingness of my being, which was in truth, everything, as it was nothing, in time and out of time, in the glory of change in stasis, and stasis, within change. I saw this, in that moment, in dream, outside of all moments, in the circle of time; and I woke, to the illusion of the world, forgetful as always, as to the nature of Dream.
Written late at night, in love, and in weariness.
christian-l-bixler
Written by
Dec 29, 2016
Dec 29, 2016 at 1:31 AM UTC
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