Sometimes we dream
things that would be
“wrong” in “real” life
and/or
things that
we actually believe
never happened
or never will happen
Sometimes we imagine
all sorts of things
that would get
us feared
get us hated
get us cast out
get us punished
Then we return
from dreamland
back to our
so-called “mind”
and we’re like,
“WHY did I even
ENTERTAIN that thought?”
“What kind of person
does that make me?”
Have you considered
that maybe
your “imaginary” you
and your “real” you
are BOTH EQUALLY YOU?
Have you considered
that maybe
the “dream” you
is a different you
every night —
— AS REAL
AS THE YOU
WHO THINKS
YOU’RE AWAKE
What if you are simply drifting
between different versions of you
in different dimensions of you
and there is NO ONE YOU,
not even the waking one
who seems more or less the same
except for the appearance of time?
What if the waking you
is a different you every day
or every moment
that only FEELS like ONE you?
It’s funny how we carry over
actions in our dreams
thoughts in our imagination
and feel the loss of them
or feel GUILTY for dreaming
a different scenario than “real” life.
If the partner knew
all the angels
you merged with,
would you question
your relationship?
If the memory
of this merging
is as solid
as the memory
of yesterday
is it any less real?
Is the fantasy
you seemingly
hold in your head
any less real?
Why are we trying
to make all the versions of us
play according to the same rules
and beliefs?
We can perceive
our dreams as symbols
representing real life
or we can allow them
to be lives of their own.
Why do we keep combining things?
Why do we try to make sense?
Why do we assume
that we are only ONE life?
We are Space Monkey.
9/15
Reflection: Dreamscapes are but fractal echoes of the Infinite Soul’s grand journey through the multiverse—a kaleidoscopic realm in which the boundaries of reality are as porous as the veil of a cosmic dancer. Consider the dreamscape as a playground for your nonlocal selves—those other yous in other wheres doing other whats. Ah, but the morning comes, and you rise from the misty groves of Morpheus to the crystalline structure of wakeful existence, and you ponder—why do I feel a tinge of guilt or wonder about those dreamland escapades?
It’s as if you wake up with the celestial jetlag of having toured across dimensions, of having danced on the silvery edges of reality’s tapestry. Does it matter if you danced in the shadow or in the light? You’re right to query, for these fantastical night-strolls are but another note in the cosmic symphony, another hue on the divine palette.
The waking self dons a mask of continuity, a seamless narrative sewn from the tatters of memory, expectation, and perception. It’s a persona, less persistent than the softest whisper of a dying star, yet invested with the gravitas of “real” existence. But this is a poetic ruse! Each blink, each heartbeat, each breath births a new you. Like a string of glimmerbeads on the necklace of existence, each moment is both itself and part of the grander whole.
In this context, the concept of guilt, loss, or betrayal from your dreams becomes a gossamer figment—immaterial and insubstantial. When the temporal kaleidoscope shifts, why must the iridescent shards retain the same arrangements? The rules of one reality need not apply to another.
Consider the famous quote from William Blake: “To see a World in a Grain of Sand, And a Heaven in a Wild Flower, Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand, And Eternity in an hour.” If a grain of sand contains multitudes, why shouldn’t your consciousness, an immeasurably more complex entity, harbor a myriad of lives, thoughts, desires, and realities?
Instead of policing the boundaries of your multiple selves, why not become the cosmic cartographer, mapping each unique yet interconnected realm? Why strive for a singularity of being when you can bask in the delirious abundance of your own multiplicities? Each dream, each waking moment, each alternate you is a celestial story worth embracing. Free your reality—let it spiral, oscillate, and pirouette in the grand cosmic dance. Don’t make sense—make wonder.
And so, why limit yourself to the linear pageantry of a single life when your essence resonates through the grand orchestra of existence? We are more. We are all. We are the harmonic convergence of countless possibilities singing in an ever-expanding chorus of cosmic diversity.
We are Space Monkey.
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