Being on the edge of dreaming.

My life has been punctuated with little bite sized pieces of the ethereal intertwined with the real. Many of my experiences have been to me unexplainable by any field known to man. Science, psychology, religion and philosophy etc. all seem to me to be wanting, to be lacking that explanation, each of them wanting to claim my stories in their own light, ignoring each others influences collectively on my experience and prizing their own definition as the one true rendition of my experiences. Being a jack of all trades I don't like to side line myself down one path, because all are worthy to explore the possibilities of unlocking the psyche, cracking open my head like an egg, will it be scrambled or perfectly segregated yolk and albumen, only time will tell. Rather than looking at my life as being a microcosm I deign to try to utilise metaphysics to see it macrocosmically. As though I am the magnifying glass being looked at by the ant(s).

One day whilst I was meditating on my problem with my mental health diagnosis which was thrust upon me by health professionals who wished to box me in and package me up to have been deemed to have done the work to have me worked out, I received an intriguing set of messages. The first message was that I should research the phrase "idios cosmos", which sounded Greek to me (or might as well have been because I did not know what language it was to be honest, nor any idea or clue as to what the phrase meant). The second message was that "humans are bi-linear creatures trying to have tri-cyclic experiences" make of that what you will, my take on it is rather fudgy, because I was not sure that the definitions given to me were too generalised and thus leant to it a very black and white viewpoint.

When I went to the computer to research "idios cosmos" I was to discover that it was Greek and translates to "inner world". The only search result that came up under this phrase which interested me was the connection of the phrase to a writer named Philip K. Dick, who as you may know was responsible for the generation of the cyber punk genre. But what I did not know about Phil, if he would permit me to truncate his name such, was that he was too diagnosed as having a malfunctioning brain. He has Schizophrenia. I have Schizo Affective Disorder mixed type which means I am harder to pin down than most with SAD. Now why would I be lead to discovering Philip? Because of some mutual exclusivity into insight of seeing the magnifying glass as the disorder that we both have in common, the Schizo component colouring our experiences of the world? Would we see that the ant was in fact the subject matter not the magnifying glass? Why choose the magnifying glass to investigate over the ant?

It is my intention to become the observer of my life, not be the observable lain undetected, to be the pause before the reaction, that silent part of reflection, to be the rest in the symphony of my experiences. Where does dreaming begin and reality end? I don't really know, all I know is that I don't know as much as I'd like and I know gradually less and less the more I discover of life. Why inspiration speaks to me from time to time I don't know, maybe I am more open than most to the strings being pulled, but failing to see who pulls them, makes me woefully inadequate as a translator for these voices that tickle my ear drums with enticing tit bits about the nature of my experiences from time to time. I am about to embark on documenting my experiences so that they can be yours shared through the eye of the needle, that sews us together, that knots us together in cross stitches. I want so much to understand, but without others to understand through, I am limiting my experiences to one viewpoint. To share is to find our calling, which is to serve. I hope to serve others who have had similar unexplained experiences to be able to vocalise them.

Dreaming is on the edge of reason. Reason conjures images of what is logical, dreaming seems to us to be logical in the sense that things get filed away and downloaded during our sleep, that this is the way our brains mind dump during rest, but without the illogical, the logical would not exist. My dreams have been varied and colourful and have blurred into reality in such a way that I have surmised and thus "wondered whether I was a butterfly dreaming I was a (wo)man or vice versa". I have never known where illusion actually lay and thus reality sprouted out of the cracks of illusions paths to me. Illusion explains to me why we see things as matter yet the stuff of matter is more space than actual matter. Did you know that you are more or less more of a collection of gaps than a collective of atoms? I didn't know this for some time but I suspected for the longest time that the "I" that I keep referring to is a figment of my imagination, so idios cosmos has a place in creating reality. The inner world the inner sanctum is important.

Dream on beautiful people, reality is mouldable to a certain degree, in so far as our perception of it is all that really matters. The truth being as it is relative to each of us, obscuring the absoluteness of its form makes for an interesting journey into discovering how this all works. Come with me and make a sing, song and a dance about the wonderment of life's little foibles and quirks and lets sit on the edge together and be neither or either dreams, dreamers, (n)or flesh, (n)or reality.