‘A Dreamer’s Dream’
by Greg Steorts
I came to earth as thirsting soul, to pitch my wishing-coin into this matrix pool, offering my cellular contribution to those myriad interference-patterns and high-pitched frequencies which frustrate the crazy metronome of tick-tock constancy. I carry this mad torch for truth, drawing the occasional prickly glance beneath knitted brow, kindly offending those ‘fine sensibilities’ so dear to the pillars of dust-laden culture. I still secretly dare to nurture those long-held fantasies too often denied, those smooth warm daydreams conjured by the classroom window, as the teachers talk their humdrum spells. I feel that luscious and lovingly furious force of Nature, holding Herself patiently at bay in the wings, looking upon us all with such a dazzling gaze. I feel that exotic species of metaphysical intervention, teasing to descend from above and ascend from within, threatening to explode as Divinity’s orgasm into the torrid fields of matter, as a fierce meteor of white hot Light, promising to displace all fluid time from this infinitesimal pond of quantum particles we all call ‘home.’ Then I stop and catch myself, remembering again, as I have before, that I’ve merely fallen asleep beneath this friendly ancient tree, and dreamt a dreamer’s dream of otherness; a world that never really was.