*This is a recount of a dream I had.
I am born and I awake. The difficulty of the birth process is transparent to my cognition. I do not fully understand but I am aware of at least one element of my existence: my purpose. There is a history and the present co-exists with my past; in an intricate and delicate, but complicated, abstract concoction.
I find myself in a city I grew up in. Initially, and because of my perceived geographical displacement, I ask an old, but familiar face, for directions. This is my destination.
Time has no dimension and I am not affected by its absence. I search for the destination that my instincts prescribe, that street that I asked the old man to give me directions for. His answer was coherent but encrypted. Incredible.
I can’t find the street. The city, this city, a city that I am familiar with, begins to feel alien and impersonal. Mechanical impossibilities overwhelm me. Confusion. I feel alien in a place I was convinced knew me.
Eventually I get lost looking for the street that was no longer there. This mirage of my existence is internalized. I wash down the disappointment with a pint of sincerity. And move on.
Hope is fundamental. I continue. However, the absence of uncertainty is a fool’s paradise. A misunderstanding, a misconception of reality television. I board a bus and begin to experience motion and progress. Where am I going? The answer is left suspended in mid-cognition. A more immediate concern pulls me in. I listen.
The bus has a number and it has a final destination. The direction it takes is predetermined. Its passengers all know where they are going. Each and every one of them knows what street they need to get off at. Their stop. Except for me.
I am the alien on planet familiar. The orphan playing in someone else’s playground… I want to understand but somehow I cannot.
And then, I awake. “Planet Certainty”. But wait…
This was the first time that I had a dream in which the unique events that transpired were temporally distinct from one another.