The Consciousness of Matthew, Part 3/3: The Nihilists World

This is the final part of a three-part story. 

Here is a link to the first part: This Solid World 

Here is a link to the second part: That Subtle World

. 

THE CONSCIOUSNESS OF MATTHEW 

Part III: The Nihilist’s World?

You are pathetic. 

Who said it? I don’t remember.
Was it even said, or just implied?
Was the accuser another or myself?
Did it happen in reality or my imagination?

Either way, the words impacted.

*****

Half-consciously I float in a never-ending abyss for what feels like aeons. Sometimes thoughts will bubble forth from my barely existing mind. Thoughts like: Is this the nothingness that I wished for earlier? The place that the unremembered scenes of a dream go to? 

Or thoughts like this: Ah, I cannot stand or walk or fly. I cannot hear, see, touch, smell anything. I cannot speak. I can barely conceive of who I am or where I am or what I am. But there is still a nascent sense of “I am”, still a lingering sense of existence. So it can’t be the nihilism that some half-remembered entity wished for who knows how many ages ago… 

The clearest thought, though still only half-formed, that ever happened in those ages was this: I wish that the lingering existence that I remain as would just evaporate and I could become exactly like that which I see around me and feel within: Impersonal and non-conscious nothingness. Right now I feel like fake nothingness - that is, I’m still technically a thing. What I want is pure and complete nihility. Somewhere in my barely-conscious state I am beginning to think that I may never reach pure self-annihilation, and that thought fills me with anguish. I want to scream but I do not have a voice. I want to ignore my pain but I am already ignoring existence as much as it is possible for it to be ignored, and that makes me weep, and then I try to ignore my weeping. 

I was like this for what felt like untold numbers of days, until one day my time drifting in that nihilistic void was interrupted. 

I heard the sound of an alarm clock ringing. It causes the lifetime of a being named Matthew to come back into remembrance… but who is this Matthew? This alarm clock ringing is the first noise I have heard for who knows how long, so it sounds like the most rapturous music I have ever heard. 

Finally I begin to see a body in a bed. The bed looks familiar, and so does the body. This is the first sight I have seen in who knows how long, so it makes my eyes ecstatic. I see two older people, one male and one female, trying to shake the boy in the bed awake. They are crying, “Matthew! Matthew! Wake up! You're late for work!”.

The female starts to ask the male what he thinks is wrong with him. They both look extremely worried. “If he was just asleep, he would have woken up by now” “You’re right honey.. oh no!” The female shoots out of the room, and the male sits on the bed, still trying to budge his son awake.

The female returns and says, “Some of my sleeping pills are missing. He must have taken a bunch of them! Sweetie, he isn’t just sleeping, he’s knocked out!”. I can piece together that the older female is the mother to the boy and likewise the older male is the father to the boy. 

I stare at this scene for a while as memories keep flooding in. Finally enough memories come back for my consciousness to vaguely cognize what is happening.

That’s me in the bed, or some kind of identity that I’ve put on. That’s my parents trying to wake me up. 

My mother starts to cry. I see her hug my body in the bed. “Matt! We love you! Please wake up!”

I feel a sense of identification with that body. I feel a sense of warmth as my mother hugs it. This warmth, a mother’s hug. I have never felt anything safer or softer. I feel like a little baby. Then my father comes over and puts my hands in his strong grip. He starts to tear up too. They are both afraid of loosing their boy. His grip feels safe and strong. How could any harm ever come to me with these beautiful giants looking after me?

I hear them say I love you. For the first time in who knows how long I feel an emotion. It feels familiar and brand new at the same time. 

*****

Love is a dancing star in my chest, 
Singing: “Out of many, you are the best!” 

Love is a light peeking through the Abyss, 
revealing that in this world there can be bliss.

Oh, how this feeling awakens my dormant soul, 
enticing it’s timeless longing to be part of a whole! 

*****

This feeling makes me feel more and more alive. I begin to feel a body form around my nascent sense of “I am”. I feel arms, legs, eyes, ears, a tongue, a face. Finally I begin to remember who I am. I am Matthew. But where am I? The last thing I remember… I… I was eaten alive. Does that explain where I am? Is this Death? 

I connect the feeling of love my parents pour out on me to the love I have felt in the past. I remember playing in the schoolyard as a kid. I remember being connected to a group of fellow human beings and thinking how awesome they are, and wanting to put a smile on their faces and feeling great when I did. I feel loved. I feel like I want to love others in return and for its own sake. 

A radiant golden light comes off of my etheric body. Why do I hate myself? How can I justify that when so many people love me? If they can love me, why can’t I?

That last thought makes my entire body burst with a divine, transcendental light. 

*****

I love you!

A friend said it in a time of distress.
The words had the tune of sincerity.
They were as medicine to me then.
It is a memory for which I am grateful.

Best of all, the words uplifted.

*****

As I dwell in the divine light that surrounds me I feel happy and glad to be alive. Why would I ever want to be nothing when there is so much to live for, so many things to experience? A nothing could never feel loved. It could never know a mother’s kiss and father’s hug, or the fun of friends, or the joy of simply being. 

A nothing could never be experiencing this moment. Only a something could do that. I love this amazing moment of floating in a void and feeling divine. If we love one moment, do we not then love all of existence? Nothing is self-sufficient, not us and not moments. In order for this incredible moment to arise all other moments previous to this one - even the moments of self-pity and self-hate - had to happen to. All of eternity had to happen for this one happy moment to happen - so is not all of existence then in some way good, if it could lead to this? Why would I ever want to be nothing? What an absurd thought! 

A door appears in front of me. I don’t know where it leads but I know I must go through it. I back up and start to fly out of the door. 

As soon as I exit the door I am flying out of the Daemon of Hatred’s mouth. 

“What? Impossible. I ate you alive. You are dead!” the Daemon of Hatred is appalled at seeing me fly out of his own mouth and bathed in a divine light. 

The rays of divine light coming off of me completely drown out the shadows coming off of the reptilian Daemon monster. He yells: “So you have come back for another beating, have you? Shall I devour you a second time?!” 

I visualize the love I have for my family and friends, and the love they have for me, becoming two katanas in my hands - Storge and Philia. I descend on to the ground, ready to fight. 

The Daemon roars, and I remain silent. It runs towards me to slash at me with one of his deadly claws. I wait for him to come near me so I can time my strike just so. As his claws are seconds away from hitting me I swiftly strike them with my katana blades, shattering his claws. The Daemon yells in pain and bewilderment. He did not think I would be able to hurt him. He sends his other clawed hand swooping down on me and I jump up to avoid it and slash the Daemon of Hatred in the face. 

When he recovers from the blow and I land back on the ground he exclaims, “This is impossible! Where are you getting all of this power from?!” 
“I get it from my mother and father, from my friends who are like sisters and brothers! I have grown beyond the person I was before! You have no power over me now! Against these blades of love, you are nothing but a paper tiger!”

The Master-Daemon lets out a primal roar. I charge at him when I am near enough he punches the cavern ground with his fists, shattering the floor and sending me flying up to the air. He leaps up and catches me in his jaws. 

His stalactite-like teeth pierce through my etheric skin and I bleed luminous blood. Having caught a hold of his prey he shakes me around like a dog and his chew-toy. I regain enough strength in the middle of all this torment to repeatedly stab him in the face with my two katana blades that are still in my hands. 

We fight like this - the Daemon trying to tighten his jaws to finish me off, me frantically stabbing him with the last bits of determination I have left - until finally one of us yields. The shadowy reptilian giant falls over and evaporates into nothingness as I land back on the ground. 

My wounds drip with glowing blood. I turn back to exit the cave very slowly, but the cave begins to disappear stone by stone and I am left floating in a white void. 

I’m not afraid. This seems like a very peaceful place. But I am eager to wake up so my parents know I am safe. 

From behind an all-too-familiar strobe light emerges. I turn around and it is the radiant flying tentacle from before. I prime my swords but the tentacle does not look like it wants to fight. 

Instead I see more tentacles begin to appear around it, and then a bald man with beautiful angelic wings appears around those tentacles. 

“You have come a long way, Matthew” the angel who is tentacles from the waist down tells me. His voice sounds unbelievably empathic. He wraps my bleeding body around in his glowing tentacles and a healing energy pours out of them, closing my wounds and filing me with renewed energy and peace. 

He unwraps his healing tentacles around my body and begins to speak. “There is much I have to tell you. I am the one who put you through these trials today. Matthew, you are a gifted dreamer. But you must understand that the dream world is powerful. You came in here today wishing that you could stay in here forever, and it was very possible that that dream could have come true. I came in and interrupted your thought process in order to stop that thought from becoming manifest. When you wished to become nothing that too could have become manifest, and when you become nothing you could not come back. But it was not enough for me to interrupt your thought process, I had to make sure you would not come into the astral plane and think those thoughts again by making you realize that life is good and worth living, and that too many people care about you for you to be stuck here in the dream world all day or become nothing. So I orchestrated all of this. I made you fight those creatures so you could overcome the negative feelings of self-pity and self-hate, and I knew that your parents would come rushing in with concern and helped you to see that.”

That was a lot to take in, but it makes as much sense as anything else that has happened to me recently.

“And what are you exactly?”
“I am a denizen of the astral plane, or as you call it, the dream world. We exist on a deeper layer of the astral plane than what you humans can reach in your dreams, though every now and again some of you can manage to reach it. You probably think I am a fascinating creature, but what about you? Ah, humans are the most fascinating creature of all! Part animal and part astral. You are all of you living paradoxes. If it weren’t for your kind we Aengels would be terribly bored”
“I have so many questions for you, first-“
“Stop” he interrupted me “You are an 18-year old human boy. You have enough on your plate without having to worry about Aengels or the Astral Plane. Next time you come to the Astral Plane, and I hope you do, please be more responsible.”

I could feel this white void vanishing, and my awareness exiting my etheric form. From now on I will balance my dreaming life and my “real” life. I couldn’t wait to feel my soft skin and my veins that pulse with vitality. I couldn’t wait to see my mom and dad and let them know everything is okay. I couldn’t wait to see my friends and maybe even make some new ones. I couldn’t wait to live my life in the “real”, solid world. 

*****

I'm becoming a day dreamer and a night contemplater,

I'm becoming a morning zombie and a night mystic,

a part-time philosopher, part-time poet, part-time mystic,

and full-time spacey-outey weirdo.

I kinda like it.

----------------------------------

THE END

The Consciousness of Matthew, Part 2/3: That Subtle World

This is the second part of a three-part story. 

Here is a link to the first part: This Solid World 

THE CONSCIOUSNESS OF MATTHEW 

Part II: That Subtle World

It’s hard to fit 
in Language’s narrow halls, 
and hard to see
with Reason’s analytical gaze. 

Instead, 

trust in intuition 
to take you by the hand
and let her guide you 
out of uncertainty’s chasm. 

So you can at last enter that astral domain… 
and walk in the world where thoughts are things. 
When you at last feel that arcane joy… 
let it liberate you from the prison named “Reality” 

*****

As I surrender to the sleepiness I gently focus my attention on the feeling of my flesh-and-blood body disappearing. My attention shifts from the gross flesh-and-blood body to the subtle energy-and-light body that permeates it. When I could feel my attention completely absorbed in the etheric form, I gently arose out of the bed, like a sleepwalking child, thus separating the astral from the physical. The ghost has exited the machine. 

I turned around to see my flesh and blood body in the bed. That creaturely thing with all it’s throbbing, aches, solidness, and heaviness. I much preferred my present, translucent form. 

Excited that my conscious transition from the waking world to the dream world had turned out successful again, I focused and took a few deep breaths to adjust myself to this new awareness. There is a danger in being overwhelmed by the new sensations of this state. So I took it all in at first. 

We use words to describe things that we are or can be familiar with. Imagine for a moment that you are experiencing something that is so utterly unfamiliar to the human race that there are no words for it yet, or perhaps not very many. You have reached beyond the limits of language but not the limits of experience. This is the problem that I face in attempting to describe my astral sojourns. But I will try my best. You will find I use the word “like” a lot and this is because I can only vaguely compare what I am feeling, sensing, etcetera to things that we experience in the conventional world. Please try to understand that no comparison or earthly language can possibly give justice to the supernal wonders of that subtle world. 

I tilted my phantom head upward and floated out of my bedroom like a ghostly bird. When I had phased through the walls I flew upwards like a rocket shooting off into the sky. 

I dove into the sky as though it were a cloud ocean, but I halted when I saw a golden cube the size of a mountain emerge out of the clouds that was covered with every type of gem imaginable - rubies, emeralds, diamonds. There were two other shapes next to it - a triangle and a sphere that were similarly sized and decked out. I stood there and observed them before deciding to fly in to get a closer look. 

As I did the shapes started to float towards me the way that bubbles do, and I began to have a sense that me and these golden shapes were attracting each other. The cube was the closest one to me and I noticed there was an opening in the centre of the cube just big enough for me to fly into. Curious, I flew inside. 

The inside of this enormous cube was as white as pearls. I placed my feet on the surface and looked around. It looked like a five-star hotel room. It was magnificent. There was a king-size bed, a chandelier, a television. I saw there was a red door in front of me on the other side of the room. Always the curious type I walked towards it and opened it. As soon as I opened the door a bitterly cold winter wind blasted against my face. I shut the door out of shock. The wind came from the other side of the door… why? I opened it again, this time much more slowly to brace myself for that freezing wind. I peeked my head outside the door and squinted my eyes to protect them from the howling wind. It’s an antarctic mountain on the other side, with the door inexplicably floating next to it without being attached to anything.

I do want to go explore that antarctic mountain that is inexplicably on the other side of this door, but I want to be prepared. First I shut the door. Then I shut my eyes and imagine being surrounded by an aura of comfortable heat. I learned a long time ago that in this world what we imagine will quickly become real, and my visualization became manifest in a matter of seconds. I floated out of the door and shut the door behind me, double checking to make sure it wouldn’t disappear, which it didn’t. 

The feeling of heat from the aura that surrounded me and the feeling of the harsh cold wind blasting against me in all directions created a deeply pleasurable feeling - the perfect mixture of hot and cool. I looked up… the mountain doesn’t seem to end anywhere. I wouldn’t be surprised if it never did.  I decided to find out. 

I swiftly flew upwards for what felt like twenty minutes, only to realize that the red door was still next to me and it was still the same part of the mountain I was looking at before. It seemed that no matter how much I moved I ended up in the same identical place. I didn’t question it, I just have to accept it. If you think about it too much you will get so confused you will feel as though your brain were getting tied in a knot. 

Let’s try something different. Since flying upwards wouldn’t work, what if I just flew around the mountain? I did that in a circular motion and found a different door, this one blue, on the other side of the mountain. Flying up didn’t work, but flying around did. Okay. 

I accepted this and approached the blue door. Cautiously I very slowly opened it just in case something harmful was on the other side of it, but instead I was immediately overpowered by the pleasant fragrance of roses. Tantalized I went through the door and closed it behind me, leaving the antarctic mountain behind me. 

I found myself in an Edenic paradise: Lush emerald green grass dotted with ruby red roses, a glorious golden sun beaming down from a magnificent blue sky. The sound of rivers soothes me. A big beautiful oak not too far from my sight was generously offering its shade. 

I visualized my heat-aura disappearing since I was getting too hot. I flew and rollicked in the sky and grass. I twirled and did loops in the airs for what felt like hours and hours. As I smoothly flew around I put my arms behind my back and breathed in the roses and felt the sun kissing my face. This is the life. 

When I start to get bored of all that I start to think of ways to keep myself entertained. That’s an easy thing to do when any thought you think will become real with enough concentration and conviction! I close my eyes, and visualize myself becoming a hawk, my favourite kind of bird. I feel my etheric body gradually metamorphose into the shape of a hawk. This used to feel really strange, but after having transformed myself into so many different things over my many visits to the dream world I have gotten used to it. 

I fly as swirly as I can, flapping my wings. It feels so novel to see the world through different, smaller eyes. I look down on the grass with my amazing hawk-vision and delight in seeing every single detail.

When I got bored of that I flew towards the oak, transformed to my human form, and laid in the shade. I could hardly contain all of my joy, feeling so happy and free. 

I never want to go back. Why would any rational person want to return to the real world? I thought of all the friends I had drifted apart from, and all the homework that would be left undone because I wanted to do this instead. Who could blame me? I closed my eyes as I thought to myself: I never want to go back, I never want to go back, I love this place so much…. I want to stay in the dream world forever….

My peace was disturbed by flashes, like those from a strobe light. I cautiously opened my eyes and saw a a liquid-like light floating in front of me. Frightened, I scurried away from it. I was getting an unshakeable feeling of “otherness” from it, like seeing a strange animal for the first time, but magnified a thousandfold. I noticed that it was long and thin, like a floating tentacle. The way it was moving towards me suggested it was alive. I say “suggested” because it did not move in anyway resembling anything that exists in the supposedly “Real” world. But if you saw it with me you would have to agree this radiant, watery tentacle was cognizant. 

As it approached me I was paralyzed with fear. I was too shocked to run away. My feelings about this thing approaching me kept switching from awe to terror. Was this creature approaching me empyreal or eldritch? 

The tip of this shining tentacle was right up against my nose. Then without warning I felt it wrap around me, and as it did I felt a terribly unpleasant and unfamiliar painful sensation course through my entire etheric body. This sensation stung and made me yell in agony for a few seconds before finally it became strangely enjoyable, and I lost myself in this strange stinging sensation. After several seconds of this I closed my eyes.

As if on cue, I began to feel myself wake up. The beautiful dream elysium around me faded, and my consciousness began to return to my flesh-and-blood body. 

I lied still in the solid waking world, enjoying the comfort of my pyjamas. Then a couple of minutes after that the memories of what just happened came rushing back to me. I reached for the bright blue dream journal I always keep under my pillow so I can write down everything that happened and reflect on it later. 

But… where is my dream journal? I lifted my pillow, and it wasn’t there. It wasn’t under the other one either. Certainly I placed it in its usual spot, underneath the pillow. I never place it anywhere else. Did I misplace it somewhere else in my room? 

I got out of my bed and began searching for the journal in my outrageously messy room. How could I find my precious dream journal in this mess? Oh shoot, and I have to go to work as well! 

I scanned the entire bedroom and it wasn’t in there. I double-checked the clock: 4:25. Okay, the alarm I set still hasn’t even gone off yet, I can still look for it. Maybe it could have fallen under the bed?

As soon as I crouched I became puzzled. Didn’t I go to bed wearing my work clothes, not my pyjamas? I’m fairly certain that I did… then I had an epiphanic moment. 

I am still dreaming. 

And with that last thought the caricature of my bedroom began to vanish and I felt myself wake up again, but this time in my real physical body. This time waking up was decidedly unpleasant because the first thing I heard was the harsh beeping of my alarm clock.

Urgently I reached for my dream journal underneath my pillow, and this time it was where I left it. I double checked what I was wearing - my work clothes, not my PJ’s. Check and check. 

Quickly I wrote down everything that I dreamt about, from the floating golden shapes to the mountain to the field that.. thing made of light. I wrote about my false awakening too. Looking back, it was obvious I was still dreaming. But I’m certain that I’m not now. Everything feels… solid. 

I look at the clock. It says it’s 5:30pm. I’ve slept through the first half-hour of my shift, and my alarm. Fuck. Mom and Dad will be so pissed at me when they get home. Not to mention my boss. I wonder if I’ll get fired? Shit… this is not good. 

I command my muscles to get out of the bed. They pretend to ignore me. I command them again and they still respond with recalcitrance. I feel chained by my own slothfulness. I’m pathetic. And I feel like an idiot for missing work.

I finally arise from the bed like a zombie from his grave and manage to get myself into the shower. Showering will cleanse me of the feelings of guilt I feel. 

As I walk into the bathroom I see my reflection. The person looking back at me in the mirror feels like a stranger. His face is the portrait of apathy. He disgusts me. 

I step in the shower. The blissful feeling of the hot water hitting my skin drowns out the entire world so I am alone with my thoughts. The impact of my sleeping in and missing my shift hits me hard, like a tidal wave that destroys a village. The realization that the person in the reflection was me fills me with horror. He is what I’ve let myself become. 

I sit down in the corner of the tub.

*****

Where do the unremembered scenes of a dream go? 
What happens to a train of thought when you forget it? 
Truly
they go to Nowhere - they go to complete Nihility. 

Why do I have to be anything at all? Why can’t I be nothing? 
I wish I could be like the unremembered scenes of a dream, 
and just 
disappear. 

Then there would be no school or work,
no unsatisfying past, burdensome present, or doubtful future.
No aching body, rushing mind, or empty heart - 
Not even a consciousness of anything inside or outside of myself
that ever was at all. 

*****

That’s the poem I composed in my head while I was trying to make sense out of my emotions. I wish I didn’t have to exist. I don’t remember ever asking for it, after all. 

Sometimes when I get like this and I feel distressed I start to comfort myself by thinking that I can’t be certain rather or not anything that happens to me is really happening anyway. After all, aren’t my dreams as real as real life? And aren’t I fooled by my dreams into thinking them as real as real life all the time? So I can’t ever really be certain if what is happening to me is real or not, right? And in dreams don’t we have nothing to worry about? If something distressing happens to you in your dreams, like a nightmare, you’ll wake up and realize there was never anything to fear to begin with. So being afraid whilst the nightmare was happening was a waste of time. So isn’t being afraid while anything happens a waste of time, since we can never be sure if it’s real or not? Yeah! So who cares if I miss work or not, right? Who cares if I get that assignment done? Who cares if I have friends or not? 

I step out of the shower and dry myself off. In just a few minutes my parents will be home to discover me still here, and they will be massively disappointed. Then they’ll force me to write that Hamlet essay. Ugh. No matter how much I try to philosophize my problems away, I cannot escape them. I wonder if it is just because I am not philosophizing hard enough? 

I open the door to go back to my bedroom and get dressed only to have a familiar feeling winter wind blast against my face. I quickly shut the door. My whole body is now as chilly as an icicle. What the sweet fuck? I gently open the door and peek outside. 

It’s the antarctic mountain from my dreams. The one I had to fly around. The bathroom door is not connected to anything outside, it is just floating. No way. No way. No way. No. 

I shut the door again and start to freak out. What the fuck is happening? I pinch my skin. It feels like flesh, not ether. Did someone give me LSD while I was asleep? What the hell!?

I jump with the intention of floating but quickly come back to the ground as anybody would. I furiously punch the wall and feel the bones of my knuckles hurt. My mind tries to rationalize what is happening but utterly fails. This goes against everything I have ever expected. It’s a dream world out there, but I’m in my physical body. It’s impossible. All the rationality I have used to make sense out of my life begins to collapse as I feel myself go mad. 

I smash my head against the mirror and I start to bleed. See, Matthew? That’s blood! Blood! There’s no way I can be dreaming right now, because the etheric body does not bleed!! Everything about anything that has ever made sense has officially ceased to do so and it’s pissing me off! 

I open the door again, steeling myself against the winter wind. I walk to the edge of the bathroom and run out the door like a madman. As I jump into the mountainous antarctic wilderness outside the bathroom my flesh starts to elegantly peel off, revealing the etheric body that permeates it. The door behind me vanishes and suddenly I’m floating in mid-air, having to abruptly adjust myself to the feeling of being in my astral body again. 

What the shit? No. I accept it. Don’t question it, just accept it. That’s the rule for the subtle world. Just accept it. The subtle world has never done this to me before, but logically that doesn’t mean it can’t. Okay. 

Wait, this is good news! I must still be asleep in the solid world, which means I’m not late for work. I just have to wait for my alarm to wake me up as it always does. Right? Yes, of course. I’ll just play around in here for a bit longer. 

For the first time in my entire life I want to return to the solid world and it’s rational order just to get away from this subtle world and it’s chaotic tricks. I fly around the mountain to get to the blue door on the other side that will lead to the edenic fields like last time, only to see that the door is gone. Am I just stuck here, then? 

I start to fly up, slowly at first and then a little faster. Finally I look down and realize that for some reason I can fly up the mountain this time. Okay. I wonder if this mountain has a peak, or if it just goes on forever. I start to fly even faster in order to fulfill my curiosity. 

Then out of the corner of my eye I see a familiar strobe light. I am filled with panic. I look and see the glowing tentacle made of liquid-like light from before, and it is unmistakably chasing after me. I’m scared. I’m usually never scared of negative things that happen to me in the dream world because I know I will wake up unaffected but this time I am terrified, because there is something truly off about that tentacle. 

Me and the tentacle are engaged in a chase around this seemingly never-ending snowy mountain. The tentacle starts gaining up on me. Finally I can feel the tentacle wrap around one of my toes and pull me towards itself. It slams me against the mountain over and over again. The pain I feel is immeasurable. I just want to wake up. I never thought I’d say this, but please, alarm, start ringing already! 

The tentacle pins me against the mountain and sends that awful stinging sensation through me again. As it does my surroundings start to change, and the tentacle disappears. 

I’m so disoriented. I take a few deep breaths and look at my surroundings. I’m in.. a cave? It looks like a cave. A wet, dark cave. Well, at least the tentacle thing is gone. 

I notice a faint, flickering glow in front of me. I follow it. It’s a torch on a wall. Right beside it, written in plain english: “The Caverns of Illumination” with an arrow pointing to a hole in the cavernous wall big enough to crawl through - though it’d be a tight fit. 

I am filled with a desire to crawl through that hole. Sometimes I feel my dreams are trying to tell me something. Sometimes, my dreams are like my inner world externalized. I can investigate it and learn things about myself. I’m often not certain when my dreams are doing this or not, but if they can do this at all then surely they are doing it right now. I mean, “Caverns of Illumination”? Come on. 

The rocks scrape up against me and it gets tighter and tighter as I crawl through the hole but I can see the end of the tunnel. Finally I get stuck. It is far too tight. I close my eyes and visualize myself becoming a snake. It feels freaky to feel my etheric body turn into something so radically different from the human form. 

I slither in the tight passageways of the cavern, feeling the rocks against my scaly belly. I hiss and see the world through my new reptile eyes. Finally I emerge on the other end and eagerly transform back into a human. 

Now I’m in a similar-looking cavern passageway to where I started except there are torches all along the walls. Having nowhere to go but forward I follow the torch-lit passageway. 

As I’m walking I start to notice muck. It sticks to my feet. It’s odour reminds me of the unpleasant smell of mould. I pinch my nostrils to try and protect myself from the smell. As I walk further there is more muck until finally I am ankle-deep in it. I start to run now without paying attention to what is in front of me, still pinching my nose to avoid the horrible smell. 

I run into something hard and stumble over onto my back. What I ran into turns around and looks me in the eye. It is the source of the muck. 

A man-sized snail with the face of a depressed, apathetic man looks at me in the eyes. Its gaze evokes a strange mixture of pity and terror. I get up, too intrigued by this creature in front of me to really notice how gross it is that my entire body is covered in some icky substance that smells like mould. 

We stare at each other for a while, and I have the gradual and disturbing realization that the creature in front of me has my face - the same apathetic face I saw in the mirror, only it looks more decayed, as though it were undead. 

Staring into the mockery of my own face, I finally work up enough nerve to ask it: “What are you?”

The creature creepily responds in my voice: “We are the Daemons of Self-Pity”. I hate the sound of my own voice even on a good day, but when it’s coming from that thing… well, that only makes it worse. 

Also, I notice that he said “We”. Which means there are more like him. Wonderful. 

Boldly, I ask it: “What are you doing here?” 

“Our master lead us in. We’re very grateful. We love lurking in here.”

So he has a master? Great. 

As we’ve been talking I start to notice that his five friends have been convening around him. I’m suddenly surrounded by six identical man-sized snail monsters who all share a decayed version of my face. They’re tying to intimidate me with the power of numbers. 

“Listen, I don’t know why my dream is making me encounter you. All I know is that if you threaten me I will be forced to fight back, and you don’t want that!” I try to sound like a brave warrior off of some anime I’ve watched, but I probably just ended up sounding like a total dork. 

I see a look of contempt creepily emerge on their faces. In a matter of seconds a dark-green ray shoots out of their eyes and as soon as it makes contact with me I can feel myself being drained of energy. I can feel myself beginning to think about how lonely and how much of a loser I am, how terrible I am at school, how utterly doomed I am when it comes to post-secondary and the future in general… I go on the ground in the fetal position, repeating to myself over and over again: “I’m a loser, I’m a loser…”

The snail monsters keep firing the dark-green self-pity inducing rays as they start to circle around me to finish me off. 

When they get closer to me I start to snap out of it. I refuse to give in! These god-dammed pity Daemons are making me think like this, it isn’t who I really am! I wrestle to take control of my own mind from the snail monsters. I begin to remember all those moments in my life where I’ve felt on fire with passion and ambition. I remember every moment of glory, every moment of confidence, every moment of virtue. I start to feel enthusiastic - and this enthusiasm becomes an energy that has set my whole body ablaze with red-gold flames, shielding me from the rays that the Pity Daemons have been firing at me.

The Pity Daemons back off.  I stand up, surrounded with an aura of flames. I summon my passion, my virtue, my Thumos in the form of a fiery sword in my grip. 

I swing my weapon around threateningly at the Pity Daemons. But they don’t want to give up. 

The man-snail I’ve been talking to fires another ray from its eyes, and I dauntlessly leap into the air to avoid the attack. In mid-air I raise my blade and it comes down on that man-snail, slicing him in two. I immediately strike a man-snail to the left of me as I get up. The one on the right rushes into me and knocks me down onto the mucky floor. It sends a pity-producing projectile into my face and I can feel a whole torrent of negative thoughts start to overwhelm me but I let them go. I roll over on my side to avoid another pity-attack and quickly get up, charging at the man-snail and stabbing it before it can fire at me again. 

The remaining three fire at me all at once and I leap over their heads to dodge the attack. I land right behind them and slash horizontally, vanquishing three at once.

I theatrically swing my sword into the air, and declare as loud as I can: “I won’t waste my precious life doing nothing! I won’t let myself be dominated by the powers of Pity! No matter what stands in my way, I won’t stop!” I stomp my foot and shout: “Just who the hell do you think I am?!” The corpses of the Pity Daemons evaporate into nothingness. The disgusting muck that came from their bodies evaporates. The cave smells decidedly fresher now. 

Feeling satisfied and, not gonna lie, kind of badass, I begin to wonder if I can leave this cave now. Then I hear the reverberation of evil laughter somewhere up ahead of me. The Daemons did mention that they had a master. 

Walking with my sword drawn, ready to fight, I use the light of the flames coming off my blade to light the way. I can hear footsteps of the master up ahead of me, I can hear the echoes of him breathing. 

Finally I encounter him, but he is covered in shadows. It is as though the shadows are coming off of him and drowning out light the same way that a torch emanates light and fights darkness. It is impossible to make out what he looks like. 

“What is your name?” I ask it, feeling a bit more confident after my battle with the Pity Daemons.

The Master Daemon comes closer to my burning sword, so I can begin to see what he looks like. He towers over me, but is presently hunched over to be roughly eye-level. His skin is scaly and as black as ink. Those shadows are definitely coming off of him. His head is a little too big for his thin and lanky body. His face resembles that of a reptilian. He has long, tiger-like claws on each of his hands.

He says in a mischievous tone, “I am the Daemon of Hatred” 

He didn’t respond until he could sense I was done observing him, as though he wants me to take him in. He wants me to see who he is talking to. 

I’m very puzzled by that response. What does him being in my dreams say about myself? Surely, I don’t hate anyone. I’m indifferent to most people. 

I ask him, “Hatred? Of what?”

The Daemon smiles, revealing a full jaw of sharp, flashing white teeth. “Oh? You mean you don’t know?” He laughs. 

Of course I don’t know, otherwise I wouldn’t have asked, you stupid Daemon. He knows I wanted something more specific. Frustrated, I raise my voice and assertively say: “Don’t dodge my question, Daemon! Answer me!”

In response to my cockiness he bares his teeth like a growling dog. Each and every one of his teeth look as sharp as diamonds and are as long as swords. As though he has a whole armoury in his mouth. 

I’m starting to get a little scared, but I remember my previous triumph and hold my ground. He speaks: “You hate him so much. You hate him so much that you want to ruin his entire life. And you do it everyday, without even realizing it! What do you mean you don’t know?!” 

This Daemon is full of shit. Anyone who knows me at all knows I don’t hate anyone. I’m the guy who gets upset when people kill tiny innocent bugs, for fucks sake. Obviously a Daemon living in my dreams should know that too. 

I rephrase my question, “Hatred of whom?” 

He smiles, like a teacher who is pleased that his student has asked the right question. He gets so close to me that my nose can almost touch his. The shadows coming off of his body and the light coming off my sword conflict with each other, so that the space in-between my sword and his body constantly flickers between light and dark. 

The Master Daemon answers with one word, whispering: “Yourself”

The realization floods over me. It hits me like a bullet and has all the power of a revelation. The Master Daemon laughs manically as I tremble to my knees. 

He’s right. I pity myself because I hate myself. I hate my life and I wish I didn’t exist. When he’s done laughing he asks me, “Well, Matthew? Aren’t you going to fight me heroically? Hm?”. 

He backs off, apparently wanting to put some space between him and me for the sake of a fair fight. The space between him and my sword flickers like crazy. I attempt to threaten him by theatrically swinging my sword like I did before, but it’s a rather half-assed attempt compared to before. He responds with his own threat by slashing his claws in the air and baring his jaws. I have to admit, that was a pretty effective threat. 

We both stand there, and he gets on all fours and rushes me at like a tiger. I have the audacity to run right at him whilst yelling. I attempt to swing my sword in his face but he manages to pounce on me first. He holds my sword-arm down with his clawed hands. The drool from his oversized and deadly mouth drips down on my face. I can hardly see him because the darkness emanating from his body has absorbed all the light around me, the only light source is from my sword. I attempt to punch him with my other arm but he quickly pins that arm down as well. He head-butts me, making me go dizzy. He releases me and starts to run around on all fours like an animal in the wild circling its prey. 

He could have finished me off right then if he wanted. He could have bitten my head off or slashed me to pieces. But he wants to play with me first. I start to shudder when I ask myself what will happen if I lose this fight. 

I try to regain my composure. The Daemon makes another attempt to pounce on me but this time I leap over him, grazing his scaly body in mid-air with my burning blade as I do so, but to no effect. There isn’t a scratch on him. He begins to circle me again. 

I notice that the light on my sword is starting to dwindle. Oh no, why? It must be because the sword was generated from my enthusiasm, and I’m starting to lose hope. No! I pound my chest and try to summon some courage. I won’t be defeated! 

He gets up on his hind legs, running towards me. He lifts his lanky arms, preparing to hack at me with his lethal claws. I hold my ground and try to time the next swing of my flaming sword to hit the claws of this dark reptilian giant. I swing and my blade it hits his claws. My sword and his claws clash against each other, but then his other hand swoops in and whacks me, sending me flying against the cavern floor. I dropped my sword, too. Fuck. 

He comes running on all fours and before I know he has me pinned down again. He opens his massive gaping jaw and it’s the last thing I see before he swallows me whole. 

----------------------------------

Continue to Part 3

The Consciousness of Matthew, Part 1/3: This Solid World

THE CONSCIOUSNESS OF MATTHEW 

Part I: This Solid World

Can I tell you
a secret?
I'm confessing more for me than for you.
I need words to make
light out of the
shadows of my
thoughts.

Okay? Okay.

Sometimes,
when my eyes collapse with longing for sleep,
my esoteric eyes awaken unexpectedly,
to a subtle world
just behind this one.

You may never notice you were in
that world
until you come back to
this one.

In that place,
everything feels lighter than snowflakes.
Especially me.
I effortlessly 
phase through walls 
I joyfully 
fly like a phantasmic bird
and stumble upon
red ravines in the sky.
An ethereal piercing noise, 
carries me across
possible destinies
and returns me to reality. 

The translucent body I just had,
will give way to the familiar one,
with all its throbbings and pulsations
and, well,
the things that flesh is heir to.

It has to be symbolic.
To elucidate it would be
a revelation.
Please,
don't tell me it's only 
confusing.
it's got to mean

something.

Every time I come back,
I wish:
I could stay in that world
forever.

*****

My eyes gently wake up. My mind is a little groggy from sleep and dreams. I enjoy the soothing softness of my bed for a few seconds before I take my dream journal from underneath my pillow and begin to write about what I was up to whilst dreaming. I write about flying through my bedroom walls, I write about the red ravine that I saw floating in the sky. Most of all I describe the enigmatic sound I heard that carried me into places I could be in the future. There was one where I was in a university class room, though which university the vision did not care to reveal. I was attending a class where we were discussing a thick book and was eager to discuss it with my classmates and professors. There was another possible destiny where I decided to take a year off instead of going to university and was at some hotel in a European country, though again the vision left out the concrete details. I wonder if it is perhaps because I am meant to fill in those details myself.

I think about the differences between the world I have just emerged from and the world I’m presently in. The ostensibly “Real” world I’m in right now is orderly. Things are limited by physical laws like gravity. One place always leads to another and you can re-trace your steps knowing you live in a rational environment. But the “Dream” world is not like that. You could be flying towards a floating red ravine one moment and then be discovering two different outcomes of the future in the next for no apparent reason. It’s more chaotic. 

But the biggest difference is just that they feel different to my consciousness. This world is solid, but that world is subtle. What I just said barely even makes sense to myself, but it is the best I can do. 

I sit there, meditating upon how to describe the indescribable, when I hear my mother cry “Matt!” from the kitchen. It interrupts my thought-stream and snaps me out of my speculative daze. I tried to bring the thoughts I was having to some kind of conclusion as I hastily got dressed to get ready for another day of high school, but I was unable to. I am frustrated that my mom had to remind me that I am obligated to leave my bedroom. 

As I walk downstairs to go from my bedroom to the kitchen my nose is delighted by the smell of eggs and toast, and my ears excited by the sound of the tea kettle boiling. My stomach grumbles.

My mother, my father & I all eat breakfast. I pause when I’m done eating to appreciate how content my belly feels, and to reflect on how soon I will have to start making my own meals. Next year I’ll either be in university or I’ll be gone to some foreign country on a gap year - not sure which. This thought fills me with anxiety. How can I possibly look after myself? I have never cooked my own meal in my entire life.  My mom and dad never even taught me how! 

“What’s on your mind, boy?” Dad asks. 

“Just spacing out”, his 18-year old son responds. Sometimes I do not wish to make light of the shadows of my thoughts. No wonder. If I brought up that they never taught me how to cook we would start to fight, if I brought up that I’ve been having amazing dreams they would tell me I should stop sleeping all the time, if I told them that I was nervous about the future they would tell me I have nothing to worry about when I obviously do. 

I have to go to school from 9am-3pm, and then work at the movie theatres from 5:00pm-…to whenever I get off work. Then my previous peaceful thoughts are swept away by the realization that I have a terribly busy day ahead of me. The hardship of this solid world I’m presently experiencing makes me frustrated. I wish I could just be flying through walls without a care in the world all the time!

The three of us rush into the car. We had some standard chit-chat to fill the silences. Stuff like, “What do you have for school today?” “What are you doing after school?” “We’ll  be running errands and will have the car, so you’ll have to walk home from work, okay boy?” 

I looked out the window and saw the dull grey sidewalks, grey streets, and grey buildings that cover my entire world. The sky was completely grey today too, without a single ray of sunlight peaking through. It all looked so boring and unappealing. I let out a sigh, wishing to return to that subtle world I had emerged from this morning and it’s infinite novelty.

I went to school. I saw the cheery Emily Thompson, one of those girls who had a beautiful soul to match her beautiful body. She was hanging out with a crowd of lively and loud life-lovers. We walked past each other, said “Hello”. 

I saw the sophisticated Linden McNeil, one of those guys who was lucky enough to not only know exactly what he wants to do out of high school (Engineering), but also happened to take delight in the things that would help get him there. He carried a book bag that seemed to put a lot of stress on his shoulders. He was with a crowd of other austere number-crunchers. We walked past each other, and said “Hello”. 

I saw the libertine Ryan MacPherson, wearing a leather jacket, his eyes glazed with the after-effects of marijuana… and maybe something else? He seemed to be walking in the opposite direction as everyone else so as to walk out the door, probably so he can skip class to smoke a joint. He was walking out with a crowd of fellow thrill-seekers. We walked past each other, and said “Hello”. 

I saw them and a host of other acquaintances, who had become the only type of people I knew. I used to be plugged in to circles of friends and best friends but had slowly detached myself from all that to busy myself with the dream world. At first it was just that I wanted to sleep more to continue having exciting vivid dreams in lieu of hanging out with people, then in my waking hours all I wanted to do was think about the dreams that I had - trying to analyze them, or figure them out. Slowly but surely I had drifted apart from everyone else. I still dearly loved these people and many others, but they had become different people now. So had I. They still played a role in my inner life somehow because they had all effected me in different ways, but they only played a small role in my outer life or none at all. 

I didn’t pay attention in any of my classes. I spent my whole time daydreaming. Sometimes about the adventures I’ve had in the subtle world, sometimes having imaginary conversations with friends in my head, and often about nothing at all. My grades were slipping and my parents were becoming frustrated about that, but so what? In English we are assigned a paper on Hamlet, my favourite play. 

Then finally my steady stream of daydreaming was interrupted by the sound of the lunch bell ringing….. 

*****

I let out a sorrowful sigh. 

Do I miss the freedom of being a kid?
Am I regretting something that I did? 

Am I just sore from too much work?
Why does my heart full of murk? 

….?? 

The lunch bell rings. 
Everybody unites with their people. 
But who do I go to? 
Do I go to the spirited youth? 
The libertine partiers? 
The austere studiers? 

I know who my acquaintances are
(Do I ever have a lot of those) 
but where are my friends? My people?
Who do I go to? 

No one, 
there is no one for me. 
I reach out for nobody, 
for nothing. 

I don’t have the blessing of life-long friends, 
loves that have been nourished for a lifetime. 

But it’s okay. It gives me more time to reflect, right? 

They go out there and create memories, 
they connect, hug and smile. 
They’re so absorbed in the moment, 
so captured by emotion that they don’t 
have time to reflect on life - they’re just..
living. 

They’re out there… and I’m in here… 

I’m in here and I create fantasies, 
I’m isolated, detached and poignantly sad… 
so absorbed in introspection that I don’t 
have time to live my life - I’m just..
decaying?

When I look at me, 
I look at my enemy. 

When I’ve been struck by Ignorance’s blows, 
remind me I alone am the cause of my woes. 

That is my privilege and my pain. 

Whenever I am under the throes of guilt, 
remind me I alone can undo what I’ve built. 

I refuse to dwell in sorrow, 
I’ll create my fulfilling tomorrow.

Somewhere, there must be people out there for me. 

*****

That’s the poem I wrote at lunch time, sitting in a corner that no one goes to. It’s where I knew I could be safe from anyone who would would ask me what I was doing. 

The last five sentences I added as an afterthought. I don't like to end my writing on a sad note, just in case I ever want to share them with someone. But the thought of sharing this particular poem with others fills me with embarrassment. 

Writing that poem was enough to fill the entire lunch hour. I go to my next classes but am even less focused on these ones. My loneliness dawns on me. I wonder if I really could re-connect with those beloved people that I used to know, or if I am just doomed to drown in my own self-pity. 

The end-of-the-day bell rings, which is the signal for dozens upon untold dozens of high-schoolers to unite with their friends and begin pursuing fun for the day. I find myself in a similar scene to where I was at lunch time. I’m alone, awkwardly trying to drift towards a crowd of people who I can feel comfortable with but being unable to. I hear talk of video games and anime and sports, none of the things I would want to talk about myself. I only want to talk about the dreams I’ve been having, and there is no one who can relate to that. I don’t want anyone to see me in this pathetic and pitiful state so I hide myself, making me even more alone. 

I walk home as a little bit of rain begins to fall down from the grey sky above.

When I get home I wonder what I will do with the hour and a half I have before I have to start walking to work. I feel myself drawn to my laptop but spending that much time in an internet-induced stupor disgusts me, so I try to think of an alternative. I could start to read something from that stack of unread books. Then Reason kicks in and says that I should be doing homework, since it is unlikely I’ll have the energy or the interest to do it after work. I decide to listen to Reason. 

I sit down on the couch and begin to try writing this English essay on Hamlet but my attention struggles to stay on task. I am too distracted by my ever-increasing longing to return to that subtle dream world. I begin to feel a terrible disgust for this solid, real world and all of its limitations in the form of worldly duties and physical laws, and all of its inescapable consequences that come from decisions like not staying in touch with your friends. 

I realize that even if I was plugged into social circles, I still wouldn’t delight in the things of this world! People are lovely to be around one day and then loathsome the next. The weather is beautiful and magnificent one day and then boring and dull like it is today. All the things that cause us pleasure will also cause us pain. The only reason I miss my friends so much is because I used to spend so much time with them. The more attention we devote to the things that cause us happiness the more potential we give those things to cause us pain later on. 

As I think of all of this the time to begin working at the movie theatres comes closer and I’m filled with dread. I hate that noisy, fast-paced environment and all the whiny customers. I try to remind myself that I should feel lucky to have a job, but that positive thinking shit really isn’t doing anything for me right now.   

I get up off the couch and go to the kitchen, into the medicine cabinet. I look at the medication my mother uses to knock herself out since she has trouble sleeping. I take a few of the pills and a glass of water. I hastily swallow the pills and walk up to my bed, eagerly awaiting the feeling of tiredness. Sleeping men do not realize how lucky they are. When people sleep they can effortlessly make the whole world dissolve, retreating into dreams. I wish to do that right now. 

I put my work clothes on and set the alarm for 4:45. When the alarm wakes me up I can quickly eat some kraft dinner or something and then walk to work. In the meantime I will retreat from this solid world. 

I yawn. My eye lids begin to naturally fall downward. I begin to surrender to the sleepiness. 

----------------------------------

Continue to Part II

After Your Funeral [Poem]

After your funeral, I think:
Can the love I still have for you be felt wherever you are now, my friend?
Can the love I still have for you fly across the border between life and death,
and reach you, comfort you, and let you know how much you are loved?

Can the love that still pours out for you carry my whispers to your ears,
so that you can hear me say how much I miss your presence - yeah,
how much I wish you had everything you ever wanted and more besides?

Because even though Death has interrupted our friendship,
there is still an empty place in my heart where only you fit.
Because even though Death has interrupted our friendship,
I still want to have the conversations only we could have.

My life continues, but..
you were so much a part of me, my friend,
that some parts of me will have to become ashes,
just like you.

That Subtle World [poem]

That Subtle World 

Can I tell you
a secret?
I'm confessing more for me than for you.
I need words to make
light out of the
shadows of my
experience.

Okay? Okay.

Sometimes,
when my eyes collapse with longing for sleep,
my esoteric eyes awaken unexpectedly,
to a subtle world
just behind this one.

In that place,

everything feels lighter than snowflakes.

Especially me.

I effortlessly 

phase through walls 

I joyfully 

fly like a phantasmic bird

and stumble upon

red ravines in the sky.

A rotund, eyeless creature 

covered in itches

crawls on its belly.
An ethereal piercing noise, 
carries me across
possible destinies
and returns me to reality. 

It has to be symbolic.

To elucidate it would be

a revelation.

Please,

don't tell me it's only confusing.

it's got to mean

something.

You may never notice you were in
that world
until you come back to
this one.

The translucent body I just had,
will give way to the familiar one,
with all its throbbings and pulsations
and, well,
the things that flesh is heir to.

Every time I come back,
I wish:
I could stay in that world
forever.

I'm becoming a day dreamer and a night contemplater,
I'm becoming a morning zombie and a night mystic,
a part-time philosopher, part-time poet, part-time monk,
and full-time spacey-outey weirdo.
I kinda like it.
-----

Thanks for reading. If you liked this, be sure to check out some of my other work by following this link: My Poetry.