One of the goals of this experiment was simply to get me writing again. The goal wasn't just these thoughts that traipse through my mind grapes. I just need to learn how to be a creator instead of merely a consumer. And so, I have had this idea of a novel that I want to work on. And maybe this is as good a place as any. So, why don't you all take a journey with me? Give me feedback. Is the story too slow? Are the characters terrible? Just let me know what you think. Thanks!
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“I don’t understand. What is this…what am I seeing?”
“That is not anything I can tell you. What is will be and what will be already is.”
“Why can’t you just tell me? I want to understand, but this makes no sense.”
“I have told you what I can. Understanding lies within range, but only you can take hold of it. There is nothing more I can do.”
“Can you at least tell me your name? Can you at least let me see a face for the voice that haunts my dreams?”
“As I have said so often before, I cannot reveal myself until it is time. And be careful what you call dreams and what you call reality. Your dreams could inform your reality, they could even dictate it. Your dreams, these dreams may be more real than you would ever like to admit. And this, I will risk saying. You are not like others. These ‘dreams' are not merely a means of explaining your existence or some clue as to why you are the way you are. As it was last time, tell me what do you see?”
“I'm tired of these games.”
“What do you see?”
I sighed. I am so tired of this same haunting dream, this same mysterious voice leading me through labyrinths into further labyrinths. I want to know why I am different. Why I can see the things I see. This is not how I anticipated my life to be.
“Okay. As always I see a body hanging in this orb of light.”
“Good.”
“And the body remains motionless. It is hanging as if frozen in time. It is not someone dead. They actually appear to be frozen amidst some task, their hands active in some work, their eyes intent upon some goal. This man, I think it is a man, just seems stuck.”
“Do you see anything else?”
“No. I never see anything else.”
“Close your eyes. Do you see anything else?”
Sigh. “Okay. I know what you are getting at. I don’t like it, and I refuse to say it.”
“Why? Are you afraid or just obstinate?”
“Obstinate. If you aren’t going to reveal who you are, I am not going to say any more.”
“Fair enough, but until you learn to trust, not only me, but your own voice, you will not move any further along. You will not find any further answers, which is what you seek, is it not?”
“I’m finished here.”
I woke myself out of slumber. I know what it is I saw. I know what it is he wants me to say. I just refuse to indulge him. I don’t care if the answers never come; I will not say what he wants me to say. There has to be another way. There has to be answers that come outside of these dreams. There has to be a better way than trusting some unseen guide who refuses to answer me. I know what it is I seek. I know what it is I want. But he pushes me toward different answers. Ones that don’t matter. This is nonsense.
Crap. It’s 4am. So, early, but I don't want to go back to sleep. I don’t want to hear him again tonight. I might as well get up. It’s going to be a long day, longer now that I am up two hours before I am supposed to be.
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