once upon a time i had a dream––tell me what this means..
i find myself among a select cadre of preternaturally gifted young people competing within a vast, multilayered racecourse suspended somewhere between amusement park, proving ground, and celestial infrastructure. the entire superstructure unfolds mythically across amethyst skies à la mario cart––its myriad luminous tracks spiraling through clouds emanating purple lite, diverging into increasingly elevated tiers, each level carrying participants farther from the world below..
competition is fierce, yet also surreally effortless. a small nucleus of us continually emerges at the forefront of every heat, ascending level after level while others gradually fall away as background characters. the women around us are attractive ay ef––and my male friends carry themselves with a confidence and competence i find myself cautiously matching, even eclipsing..
there is a pervasive awareness among us that we have all been divinely curated for something––though none of us yet understands precisely what that ‘thing’ is..
eventually the course converges upon a final proving station unlike any before it..
there, positioned at the terminus of the uppermost tier, stands a narrow staircase rising into open sky. beyond it hangs no bridge, no platform, no visible destination––only atmosphere, magik and light..
myriad competitors gather at this threshold and stop in a state of quiet, appraising abeyance..
some competitors evaluate the staircase briefly before retreating. others linger at its base in quiet despondency, as though contemplating an existential endgame no longer accessible to them––their prior accomplishments, however awesome, suddenly and retroactively rendered provincial in light of the new threshold before them..
yet a smaller contingent––my nucleus––remains..
the clouds possess an unusual luminosity and drift in immense continental formations beyond the staircase. occasionally figures emerge from among them at the summit, the proximate sky’s amethyst hues shimmering faintly as they materialize. they descend toward us with expressions of quiet amusement, as though returning from personalized vacations––their countenances bearing the unmistakable energy of divinity and play..
i perceive not even the faintest semblance of supercilious triumph in them. no urgency. no desire to impress––only an undercurrent of childlike delight..
as they circulate among those of us still awaiting admission, fragments of their excursions begin to emerge. one describes how the clouds themselves serve as sustenance there––that portions may be torn away and consumed, whereupon vapor assumes the flavor and substance of whatever food one desires..
others relate stranger amusements. from time to time, they explain, inhabitants of the higher realms conceal numerologies and coded messages within films, events, and cultural artifacts unfolding in the world below––small acts of angelic mischief occasionally detected by only the most spiritually precocious. more often than not, however, these messages pass unnoticed, dissolving into the background noise of ordinary life..
they relate these stories so casually, almost irreverently, leaving the distinct impression that whatever lies beyond the staircase is governed less by solemnity than wonder––less by spiritual judgment than play..
eventually the flow of returning travelers diminishes, leaving the staircase vacant..
for the first time in my life, i realize there is nothing left between myself and whatever lies beyond..
i ascend the staircase as the racetracks, competitors, and my friends begin to recede into a backstory of awareness. they now feel strangely distant, as though already belonging to another chapter of existence..
for a brief moment i linger at the threshold before stepping into open air..
i brace myself as gravity takes hold momentarily––only to relinquish me almost immediately..
the entire scene below continues to recede both spatially and ontologically as i ascend. above me the cloud continents part slightly, revealing vast aureate structures suspended at impossible elevation––their outlines resolving into pure lite against the horizon..
and just as the first contours of the empyrean begin to emerge through the clouds ahead, reality itself suffers a kind of structural failure––its scaffolding and convolutions and myriad impossible colors flickering, glitching, evanescing as God recalls me into hypnopompia..
LS