Member-only story
Tulpa Dreaming
The Day The Floor Fell Out
This feels mournful. I am not melancholy. Perhaps nostalgic, but I am aiming towards neutral. This feels like the yearning of a sad song from Xanadu, or the Muppet movie, is tapping on the door. I am not my dreams. I don’t know whose eyes I see through in those moments. Me? Past me(s)? Maybe I am not supposed to see me. Looking into the mirror crashes the infinity gate.
Maybe this is the blues. A diamond is not the dream. It is the brain that teases out the signal for the spiritually impaired mind. This world’s LP is brail. This song is beyond the ‘why am i here.’ I have made some distance from that ELO kick starter. We’re far beyond the rainbow here…
I woke this morning with the vibration, heavier than the past few days. Qualifier, no longer a purring cat resting on the top of my head. It’s a diesel engine. Who left this bus running? I fear death is imminent. I am okay with that. There is a realization every moment is a death and rebirth. Every click of the clock is a Phoenix moment. It’s not one big bang, it’s a never ending series of blind explosions. Ah, the engine! The droning of the heart beat…
I pray into it, interjecting words of love. Back in the dream time I find myself in classroom that I don’t…
