The Boy, The Man (Long Version) [Poem]

He grew up in a world of softness.
Every want was devotedly satisfied,
every pain urgently healed,
every vice swiftly forgiven.

He became an unnatural thing:
a little boy inside the body of a growing man.

He knew he had the best of all possible burdens.
And he was grateful,
though he was spiritually disfigured.

Within him grew a longing
to be purged of all that is soft!
He craved discipline and danger,
for how can one rise to greatness,
in a world of ease and fairness?

This tension cannot last much longer!

The Boy or The Man:
one of them
must
DIE!

He left home!
Even as it tearfully clung to him.
He went venturing into strange lands,
seeking foes and ordeals menacing enough
to make him strong.

He used to think:
all great frontiers have already been conquered,
so what use is there of tenacity and courage?
But in that strange land he discovered:
The great frontier is ever-new.

He entered the world of trials,
He had to deny wants.
He had to withstand pain,
he had to overcome vice.

He was becoming the man he would be proud to be.

He knew he had the best of all possible blessings.
And he was grateful.

The Boy, The Man (Short Version) [Poem]

He grew up in a world of softness.

He became an unnatural thing:
a little boy inside the body of a growing man.

He knew he had the best of all possible burdens.
And he was grateful,
though he was spiritually disfigured.

Within him grew a longing
to be purged of all that is soft!

This tension cannot last much longer!

The Boy or The Man:
one of them
must
DIE!

He left home!
Seeking foes and ordeals menacing enough
to make him strong.

But
He thought:
"all great frontiers have already been conquered,
so what use is there of tenacity and courage?" 

But
in that strange land he discovered:
The great frontier is ever-new. 

He entered the world of trials.

He was becoming the man he would be proud to be.

He knew he had the best of all possible blessings,
And he was grateful.

Human Becomings [Poem]

What is a human being?
Do you understand what goes on
between your ears, behind your eyes?

We are a cacophony of desirous voices,
each of them trying to shout above the others
to get itself fulfilled.
Have you ever taken the time to hear them?
Those myriad wantings,
each one calling itself "I"?

This one says:
"I want to express my vicious strength!!
Crush, Kill, Maim, Burn, Slice!
And is there anyone strong enough to return the favour?!"
In today's world one rarely listens to this violent "I".
It would be impolite. But sometimes he gets out of his cage.

This one says:
"My too-too tender heart is covered with scars,
each one deep, incurable, and horribly unjust"
says the I of melancholia.

This one says:
"I want to climb the highest peaks!
Where is the trial strenuous enough to purge me of my weakness?!
And who will lavish me with gold and glory when I am victorious?"
says that ambitious I.

This one says:
"Every inch of my skin desires to be touched!
Ah! This physical body was made for ecstasy.
More explosive pleasures! More, more!"
says the I of lust.

This one says:
"Oh, my heart is overflowing with sweetness!
Here, stranger! Here, friend!
Have some of this kindness and love.
There is enough for all!"
says the well-praised I of kindness.

This one says:
"Shiny toys, rare books, golden coins..
I hardly have enough space for it all!
Well then! I will just need more space!"
says the I of greed.

This one says:
"Everything in this world is a weight too heavy
for me to carry. Why should I even bother,
when this bed is so so comfy and warm?"
says the I of laziness.

This one says:
"This world! So much mystery!
I would need six eyes and three brains,
to learn everything I want to know!
Where is a great teacher who will fill my thirsty mind with knowledge?"
says that curious I.

What we call "self" is merely
the temporary compromise
between these innumerable longings.
"Self" is always subject to change,
and "Personality" is simply a set of habits.

You see,
The phrase "human being" is false.
We are not "human beings",
for the word "being" implies fixedness,
of which there is none in us!
The self is a turbulent river-
always changing relentlessly.

We are "human becomings"

for we are not the same person year by year
or day by day
or even from one moment to the next.

But there is more to us than this.
Deep within -
hidden by body, thoughts, emotions, and "I" ' s,
is the soul.

Just as space contains all,
but is itself unaffected by the thing it contains,
so too does the soul
contain your sensations, your past, your moods,
but is itself eternally unchanged by these things.

What you call your self is the weather,
and what is known as the Soul is the sky.
Aum.

If one could feel one's "I" to be located here,
in the soul,
then one could for the first time in their entire lives
be a human being
instead of a human becoming.
Aum.

Life is [Poem]

For the pure, life is blissful! 

For the child, life is a game. 

Life is a contest for the strong!

Life is an adventure for the brave! 

It is a performance for the theatric, 

and a mystery for the knowledgeable.

Life is a song for those who love. 

And for the wise,

Life is merely a dream. 

Aum. 

Observations on an Airplane [Poem]

As I listen to the the fierce roar of the plane engine,

I gaze out the window fortunately placed to my right. 

Sprawling cities transform into toy-like landscapes,

as the plane flies upwards and upwards. 

The opulent clouds I once reverently loved from below,

I now admire their fluffy, mountainous tops from above. 

It is no wonder that the ancients placed their paradises here,

in this mysterious realm between the clouds and the stars. 

Crossroads [Poem]

I am at crossroads.

To my right, 

a path that is safe and secure.

I can see the footprints of those who have walked on this sunny trail. 

The facts tell me it leads to success. 

This path is beautiful and inviting, like a national park. 

I can see friends and family

merely walking down it. 

To my left,
a path that is dark and dangerous.
The path is obstructed by twisted trees.
Though legends tell me it leads to either blissful destiny or utter catastrophe.
This path is beautiful but frightening, like a mountain.
Only the courageous and the audacious
dare embark on it.

Inevitably 

I will have to choose

Inevitably 

when I choose 

that choice has been made forever

Inevitably

when a choice is made

the effects of that choice will turn

into a new set of crossroads. 

Which way will my life go? 
Prudence & I have gone over it 

dozens and dozens and dozens

of times. 

Prudence says, 
"Those who have gone to the right -
their lives are easy, safe, and bright.

Dangerous things may transpire,
down the left road. It could be dire.
Cutthroats, thieves, brutes, and liars!

Life is dangerous and short. Always be cautious.
Why anyone would risk, it makes me nauseous!

Listen to reason, and choose the well-trodden-
perhaps later in life, your horizons can broaden"

Oh, Prudence!
You know that always have I obeyed your voice.
But...
what is that I detect in your words, Prudence?
Do I hear cowardice lurking behind your caution?

Gah! Oh, how I am weary of Prudence!

What do you tell me, Passion? 

“Youth need experience

as Flowers need the sun:
To grow! Embrace the new, 
or growing can't be done.

How can one be a Mythic Hero,
without venturing into the land of trials?
No Enlightenment is had,
for one who dwells in risk-less isles. 

The longings in your heart of hearts,
were planted there by God's hand,
to lure souls to their fated quests.
Fulfilling them is divine command!"

Passion's words
are the sparks that light up my fiery soul!
I know what I must do now!
Today, 

I heed Passion’s wisdom!

Conversation with your Soul [Poem]

I want to have a conversation with your soul. 

I have to have a conversation with your soul 

so I can love you. 

You can’t love what you don’t know. 

Reveal some of your inner self to me. 

But not all at once - 

that would be imprudent. 

A soul is too vast a thing 

for anyone to behold 

all at once. 

But please 

just give me a glimpse.

Then 

I will reciprocate 

and the more we show of our inner selves 

the more we can be loved. 

You hesitate.

I understand. 

To reveal yourself to someone you first have to know yourself. 

We are, all of us, abysses - 

dark, enigmatic, with terrible depth. 

It is silly 

and frightening 

that we can spend all day with ourselves 

but not know who it is that 

gazes out of our eyes, 

speaks out of this mouth. 

touches with these hands. 

But please 

dive into that inner ocean 

and shine the light of introspection upon it. 

No one can do it but you.

Adventuring Partners [Short Story]

There are invisible guards inside of everyones mouths who dutifully ensure that the words we say are appropriate. But if you stay up past midnight these guards start to get a little lazy, and that gives an opportunity for our real feelings and thoughts to slip out. This is why the most meaningful conversations happen at around 3:00am.

Evan was laying in Stella's bed, under her blankets. She was changing into her pyjamas in the bathroom. Evan could still taste the liquorice tea with honey in it that Stella had made him earlier, and he mindfully abided on that sweet sensation in order to get as much enjoyment out of it as possible. He had gone on earlier about how honey and liquorice tea together were the best combination of flavours conceivable. But, of course, that's exactly the kind of thing that he would say since he has a strong penchant for sweet things.

When the sensation of the honey-liquorice tea passed Evan's thoughts went to the person who generously made him the tea. His nostrils caught the subtle leftovers of her scent on the bedsheets and he smiled. It made him think of how pure hearted she was. He likened her in his imagination to an angel.

Evan excitedly awaited Stella's return. When she came out in her polk-a-dotted pyjamas she made a childlike noise that sounded like "meep" or "mawh", as she often did. She slipped underneath the blankets and curled up against Evan, placing her head on his chest. Evan wrapped his arms around her.

Stella, who was almost twenty, had never laid in another bed with a guy before meeting Evan. She loved to cuddle, and her favourite person to cuddle used to be her older sister. But Evan had changed that. As she laid there she was thinking about how much she trusted Evan. This thought filled her with delight, so she hugged Evan as tightly as she could. As soon as she stopped Evan immediately repeated the hug.

They laid there for almost an hour, as content as lazing puppies.  Evans hands gently went up and down her hips. He was happily surprised at how deep the curve of her hips were. Stella relished in the caress of his hands. Her fingers were soothingly playing with his hair. They were not talking, but their senses of touch were engaged in a silent conversation. 

Evan moved his head and looked into Stella's eyes. Her face was lit up with attraction.  She was strikingly beautiful, but to him she was also very mysterious. He wanted to have a conversation with her soul, which he felt he didn't know nearly as well enough as he wanted to. Evan thought about how one cannot truly love what one does not know, so the more we let other people know about us the more we are allowing them to love us.

Evan wished he could lay his soul bare for her, but he knew that would be unwise. The soul is too vast a thing for anyone to behold all at once, even oneself. Instead, Evan thought, we must give glimpses into our unlit, arcane depths to those we are compelled to to love and know.

Stella had a curious look on her face, because she knew that he was about to say something, but he was taking a while to say it. The reason, of course, is that Evan realized that in order to get her to reveal some of her soul to him he would have to begin, and that would make Stella reciprocate.

It is true that one can only love someone as much as they have revealed themselves to you. The more we show of our true selves to someone the more that self can be loved. However, in order to reveal yourself to someone you first have to know yourself. We are all abysses - dark, enigmatic, with great depth. And we are enigmatic first of all to ourselves. Somehow we can spend all day with ourselves and yet never really know who it is that sees out of the eyes we gaze out of. When we dive into our inner oceans and shed the light of introspection upon that abyss within we never know what we might pull out.

Evan had dived many, many times. Sometimes when he dived he was terrified by the monsters that dwelt within the shadows of the soul. Other times he was amazed by the pearls and treasures that lay hidden deep within.  He had collected every insight he had about himself and mentally recorded them. For him it was not an issue of knowing nothing about himself, it was an issue of which page from his mental records to share. There were things in those records, after all, that were terribly embarrassing. Some of them were shameful. He was cautiously looking for a page that would let Stella know more about him and entice her to share more about herself as well, but that wouldn't lower what he imagined to be her opinion of him.

"What are you thinking about?"
Stella abruptly asked, interrupting Evan's thought process, which was all for the better because he would never really have come to a conclusion about what to say unless he was put on the spot.
"I was just thinking....I've always had a great yearning to travel and see the world. I want to visit every continent. Every single one. Even Antarctica. Whenever I say that people are always like, 'Oh? Do you want to visit Antarctica too?' and I'm like, Yes goddammit I also want to see Antarctica. I am fully aware that I said  'I want to visit every continent', and that Antarctica is one of them. But of the seven I want to go to Europe the most".

Stella piqued up,
"I visited France once".

Evan's face lit up.
"Oh my god! That's amazing!"

"I was in the south of France, and I was staying with a home stay family. I visited this forest that was so magical, like it came right out of a story book. I was in a cave once, too, and I was reading in there for a little bit. It was so much fun to just wander around the town I was in, just by myself. I felt so free and independent..." she longingly sighed, wishing she could go back.

With every word she said about it she got more and more excited. This is precisely the kind of thing he wanted to know about Stella. Within the both of them there dwelt an adventurous soul that longed to see the world. She could see that he was paying attention to her. That was one of the things she liked about him, he was a great listener.

"I have some pictures of France. Would you like to see them?”

Evan almost leapt out of the bed.
"I'd love to!"

The two of them untwined and got out of the bed. Stella sat on the chair in front of her desk and opened up her laptop. Evan wrapped his arms around her as he stood behind the chair, unable to keep his hands off of her. Stella clicked on a picture that was tucked away in a folder on her computer. 
"Is that the magical forest you were in?" Evan asked.
"Yup!"
Of course it must be, Evan thought. On the desktop was a picture of a complex web of gnarled trees with dark-green leaves. 
Stella opened another one, “This is the town I was in.”

Evan’s jaw dropped. It was a photo of a quaint medieval village. The picture was so enticing to the adventurous spirit that it looked as though it belonged in a travel magazine, but it was even more enticing since it was a real photograph taken of a real town with nothing staged. 

“You’ll get to travel one day” Stella said to Evan in a tone of optimistic certainty that filled him with hope. This hope revitalized his fantasies so that they became more alive. He held her tight and kissed the top of her head from behind the chair. She smiled and tilted her head up, and they shared a kiss on each others lips. They both felt elated and grateful for each other, each of them unable to understand how they could be so lucky.

“I want to see the world with you. You would be the best adventuring partner ever” said Evan, his head so far up in the clouds that he was bringing Stella up there with him.
“Ditto”

Esoteric Whispers [Poem]

Sometimes I feel like my Soul and the Universe are having conversations.

I’m just the Listener. They speak Symbolic Languages I don’t understand. 

They are close companions.  

They confess their secrets with each other, they laugh with each other (and at me..),

they discuss about how to help me help them, they check in on each other…

and I don’t understand. 

But sometimes, just sometimes, I penetrate the language barrier.

Then I hear their esoteric whispers, understand the Messages, 

and feel the ecstatic knowledge. 

Is it really so crazy to just believe?

Is it really so crazy to just believe that this Life is meaningful?

Is it really so crazy to just believe that when I feel bliss, I’m on to something? 

Is it really so crazy to just believe that the inner and outer dots can be connected? 

Is it really so crazy to believe? 

If it is,
I’d rather be crazy.

Our Memories [Poem]

The music of our memories:

laughing with you, being drawn to you

is as ameliorating as the rhythms of jazz.

The vision of our memories:

talking with you, being adventurous with you

is as beautiful as a painting.

The feeling of our memories

walking with you, being consoled by you

is as comforting as the softest beds.

The fragrance of our memories

knowing you, being close to you

is as soothing as herbal tea.

The flavour of our memories

holding you, being grateful for you

is as sweet as caramel chocolate.

Celebration of the Senses [Poem]

The fog of thought blurs my vision, and I cannot the world see. 

My mind is fixated on responsibilities and the world’s mysteries. 

But a refreshing breath of mindfulness awakens my soul, 

so I can behold this reality of which I am part of a whole. 

Before my eyes were open, but my Sight was blind. 

Now that my mind is at rest and I step out of the grind,

my hungry eyes want to take in everything there is to gaze:

O Life, let me see all of your beautiful, ephemeral ways! 

Let me see the leaves and their labyrinths of texture, 

let me see every shape in every colour and mixture!

O Colour! The redness of red, the blueness of blue! 

How deeply my Sight wishes to connect with you!

The simple magic of the baby snow hugging elderly trees, 

and clouds peacefully walking - O, what wonders are these!

Friends! Shrug your burdens off your backs, and let’s go!

Let us frolic, play, and laugh! For will this last? We don’t know.

All of you! Nature’s fair children, you who still have some vitality. 

All things in this world must pass, inner and outer, that’s reality. 

Our wealth of time is too poor, let us not spend it on crying.

Let’s share the love in our hearts and enjoy this life's dying. 

The Weight of Fate [Poem]

A youth is a seed. 

                       Any seed, When gently tucked into healthy soil,                          

And generously nurtured

with cool water and warm sunlight 

with diligence, patience, and compassion

 can triumphantly emerge as a noble tree.

Any seed 

can do that

but not on its own

that’s where you come in. 

What is better than feeling
that the steps you take are
carrying you forward 
on the path of your own 
enlightenment? 

Well, experience tells me it's better than self-atrophying 
just because you can hardly bear the weight of your own fate. 

I tell you: 
the enigmatic gods don't put responsibilities on your shoulders 
unless they have faith in you. 
What an honour a burden is! 

Tell that to yourself the next time you say: 

"I am too weak to be a gardener of society, 
I don't have a green thumb for humankind"

Instead, know this:

"To support is to be supported, 
to nurture is to be nurtured"

Do you not see the subtle hands
of the puppeteering gods
pulling the ecstatic strings of destiny?

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Inner Warfare [Poem]

Oft have I cried, "Lead me not into temptation"

I did not say it like the parrots in their pews.

Truly, truly, I said it in my heart of hearts. 

When will my piety at last receive its dues? 


Because still the God of my Spirit clashes

and quarrels against the Gods of my Flesh.

Every time one wills NO! the other coaxes YES! 

Will I ever rest from this fight, and breathe afresh? 


Fall a thousand times, rise a thousand and one. 

Quetism  bestows me with holy detachment, 

and Prayer fills me with mystical bliss. 

Armed with these, I'll have freedom from sense entrapment. 

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The Performance [Poem]

My soul is a mystery play;

I  know not those invisible actors, 

the kings and jesters, 

queens and knights, 

that love and die within myself. 

All I can see is their performance. 


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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. 

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Continue to Part 3