I don't remember being any other way. I don't remember any time in which I felt I existed. I have had glimpses of the world mattering, of it being something of substance and not just a dream, yet whenever things got upsetting it just turned into a dream. It's easier that way.
I don't know if I can handle being in reality. I'm not sure I want to.
On the one hand, I need some meaning in my life, so I can enjoy things, so I can progress, so I don't cause grief to my family and friends and finish what I started last March.
On the other, it has it's advantages. I can be free, nothing is real, nothing is true, and I have nothing to loose. I don't get caught up in unpleasantness, don't argue, and am able to understand contradictions and points of view. In a way I see the world in a much more peaceful, useful, spiritual way. I don't want to loose it.
I have very spiritual friends. They tell me of experiences where they feel no difference between them and the world, where they reunite with the infinite, their egos dissolve into nothing and they reach... (bliss, ecstasy, nirvana whatever). I feel like this often, and without hours of meditation.
Does that mean that I am ill? Or are people so hung up on the limits, definitions, 'reality' of this world there is no place for people who are not?
I have been places where time has no meaning, not in the western usual way. There was the sun, and it's progression in the sky, night times and the phases of the moon. I could tell if a task could be done before darkness by looking at the sky, know how many days have past since an event by looking at the moon.
Here, I do not remember which day it is, having to ask and check many times a day. It's seems strange that the days repeat themselves (it's Monday, again!) The clock makes no sense to me, I don't know if ten minutes is enough to make a phone call.
What does that say? That there is something wrong with me or am I just adjusted to a different way of living?
This world is a game, a show, a dream. People devote their lives to understanding this, and I feel it on a daily basis. Not only is it a dream, a story, but once you know that you can change it. So I live in lucid dream, the world provides me with whatever I need and want if I make the effort of treating it like a dream I can influence. The more I try experience the world as real and fixed, the less things go my way.
Maybe it's just my distorted senses that make it look like that.
Doesn't the problem start when I try to live in this culture while my sense of the world which is just so different it becomes unharmonious?
It's my home. The NOTHING. The home I want to get back to. I don't want to forget that this world is only a dream, I don't want to forget that I don't exist and so can be and do what ever I like. I don't want to forget my home.
Do I have to abandon it in order to be happy?
What's more important to me? Knowing the infinite world, the infinite me, or living my life?
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