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I don’t dream anymore. Or I constantly dream. I suppose I could go into some sort of sleep clinic Earthside to find out. But I doubt that the semantics of it are important and I need to keep the in-the-loop circle small.

December 21, 2012. Lots of people joked about the end of the world. Scientists easily disproved predicted catastrophes. Historians clearly showed that the Mayan calendar was being misinterpreted and had predicted no cataclysm on this date. The day was quite significant, however, at least for me. That was the day I started dreaming. Or stopped dreaming. Or began doing whatever it is that I do.

People say that they see me sleep. I suppose that my body does… my bodies do… At first I thought timing mattered, that going to sleep earlier might cause me to awaken earlier—but there is no connection. One reality just closes when I fall asleep and in that moment I awaken. The amount of time I sleep in one has no impact on the time I spend awake in the other or vice-versa.

So am I a butterfly dreaming he is a man or am I a man who once dreamed he was a butterfly? Am I a humdrum professional who has found himself improbably thrust into a life of adventure with dreams of a fantastic world? Or am I a warrior maiden in a fantastic world who has written her yen for excitement into a tedious dream of clerical work?

All this, however, is supposition and stage-setting. Philosophy and flibber-flabbering. Yes, I made that word up, it didn’t come from either side. And perhaps this is demonstrative of why *someone* ought either to shun the first person or to learn to use it more wisely. But in any case, I live in two worlds, falling asleep in one and awakening in the other. And this is the tale of how I found my new equilibrium, sneaking common commodities from one world into the other where they are rare, building fortunes both literal and figurative, and striving to make both worlds a better place for my time spent there.
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In the beginning, everything broke.

We have such metaphors that allow us to comprehend the world. We accept imprecision as the price of that comprehension. And so we have stories and metaphors. We are told of a beautiful garden, of the fruit which launched us into descent, and it is perhaps only natural to understand the allegory sequentially, to imagine that ‘there was a time’ when things were better.

But that’s not what time is. There was not a time before the shattering because prior to the shattering there was no need for time to exist at all. Time was merely one of the little demons that escaped the opening of Pandora’s box. It is no co-incidence that everything broke in the beginning. Because the breaking of everything is an inseparable part of the beginning.

In the beginning everything broke. Broke, fractured, separated. Since the beginning, stars have moved further and further from one another. Entropy has slowly worked its’ insidious dance tearing apart and winding down all life, all motion, all connection, all that is was or ever shall be. We are dying. Dying too is an inseparable part of beginning. Life, be it metaphorical or literal, is a terminal disease. If there is a beginning then there is an end.

It is not about returning to a time before everything broke. There is no time before everything broke. It is about mending the rifts that can never be mended. But ‘never’ is a limitation which becomes meaningless when time is transcended. It is about achieving a state that never existed. But when time is cast aside then it need no longer be a hinderence.

In the beginning everything broke and began to fall apart. And we exist in time where everything unravels. Why then, do we have hope? Why then do we imagine that there can be escape? Is it not because everything that is descends to us from before the beginning? Is it not because there is still that within us which denies the facts we see in favor of the truth we know? Is it not because we are all intimately connected to that which is beyond the reach of time?

Invisible threads descend throughout all that is. Invisible thread that unite, that barest shred of preserved unity boldly defying the shattering. There is nothing in time’s purview that will not fall before its’ great and horrible inevitability. But the very core of us is not within time’s purview. And it rests within us to build that core, to nurture that core, to seek the impossible goal of driving out completely the virus of time and in fighting the unwinnable fight we aggrandize our inevitable victory.

It was broken from the beginning. But we are no slaves to the beginning.

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