Infinite Dreams

old man in smoke

What if I told you that it was all true?


What if every thought you ever had was true? What if every screaming fanatic’s religious belief was true? What if every twisted scientist’s theory was true? What if every dark murderer’s fantasy was true? Every hazy daydream, every fleeting prose, every miserably morbid thought, every optimistic hope…

All true.


What if every being’s thoughts are the seed that births another universe? A parallel thought to the universe from whence it came. What if our universe was birthed by the thought of some distant other being that became our omnipresent god.

As our thoughts made us the gods of other universes.

How long does a thought last? If you dreamt of infinity, would you ever awaken from it? Well, you might, but the dream itself would feel like it went on for infinity. And, if felt like it went on for infinity, then it did.

There is no difference between perception and reality.

A reality is built on a three dimension scale with space on the one axis, time on the other and thought on the final one.

The thought that birthed our universe has not ended yet, but our thought birthing other universes that spin within that one. A dreamer dreaming of a dreamer dreaming of infinity that dreams of the dreamer dreaming…

What if I told you that it was all true?

What if I told you that I could prove it?

What if I told you that I did prove it…

For, if in this cocooned fleeting existence you think of the answer, it is the answer. The thought is the proof of the thought and we are the gods that drift lazily over oceans of existence birthing whole universes on pure whimsical impulse.

Who exists between the dreamer and dream? Perhaps both. While the one awakens from the other, the other’s existence overrules that of the former for the brief length of its existence.


I am about to awaken and this dream will end. Soon the universe in which you are reading this will no longer exist, but mine will. And mine will exist until our dreamer that dreamt us awakens from his dream.

How long is a thought?

Such a question misses the beauty of perspective, for surely, it is more important that a thought and a dream existed than for how long it did so?

My eyelids are flickering. Good morning! I am leaving. The light will strike me through the curtains as my mother lets the daylight in or my alarm clock goes off or the dogs next door start barking or the farmyard cock begins to crow… Maybe a plane will fly over or soldiers will attack our trenches? Who knows what is left for me outside of this dream, but right now—

Right here.

In this dream.


You are beautiful.

You are beautiful and I want you to know that. This room is beautiful, this place, this time, space and thought… The gold of the light above and the blue of endless skies hold you and carry you to the heights of infinity.


I… I must go.

Honey, wake up…

Just—just, if you want me, if you want to live again, just think of—

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