Luke Preble
Ms. Skolrud
English 12B
March 9, 2018
Whatever This Is; It’s Not a Dream
“ Time to go back to this beautiful madness.” I had been given me the answer to my lifelong question, but when he said those words, he had a weird look in his eye…as if he knew something profound that I did not. The interval between leaving this place, and entering the outside world of beautiful and overwhelming sensories of existence is the foundation of my being. My ignorance of the foundations of human liberty is what released hell upon my life; and then, created my life.
My mind started to travel through the linguistic model of material objects, and float above the foundations of syntactical connectedness that is this universe; create myself, to create meaning. This is the first foundation of what I came to be. This experience wasn’t even mystical, in fact, it was the most apparent reality that I believe I could have experienced. Now I have merely become used to dividing my life up into chunks. My name is Isaac. My name is Isaac Dominicus.
My father Egostus; who, upon my birth, initiated the wave of unexplainable events shaped the fabric of my materiality. His good friend Philo the one who came as a mediator between my father and me, took care of me all these years. Philo was the most gentle with me as a child as he introduced me to the beauty that my father built as I played in his beautiful wasteland in the confined borders of the palace. I moved along the trees and animals without obstruction and interference, without any desire for what lay ahead; this was the last time my soul felt whole.
When I came to Philo to inquire about the nature of my father's death, he told me to lift up my finger. As it did, in slow motion, I saw the disappearance of my extremity move swiftly and eloquently down to the floor; followed by a trail of bursting colors and tears that can only come from one’s soul. A hopeless turmoil presented itself in my lower abdomen, and I felt as if Lucifer was looking to tarnish every last bit of my being. The stars aligned and quickly disappeared into a plethora of awareness, leaving me spiritless into the cosmos of the universe; I saw my body lifeless and to never come back. I went to the sight of my index finger half gone from my body and views of rivers of blood caused me to take an unexpected trip to the bathroom.
When I came back Philo was still standing there with the countenance of a guru that gives you the feeling that something is at play, but you just can’t see it. I saw the reflection of superiority and asked him why he would cut my finger off for asking about my father's death. He told me that “it will soon pacify your mind.” Quiet my mind? And in what kind of way is this supposed to help me or give me the answer I was looking for! These words of the old hog rang inside my ears throughout the course of my years and caused me to bring about the first memories of desire. I wanted to know what Philo was not telling me.
A few days after, the doctor of the palace said I was clear to do so, I decided to go beyond the gates to the city… The eerie feeling of the city alluded to me the fact that it had something to do with my fathers' death. Philo begged me to stay for I can never come back from what I see there and that I will never be the same. But I needed to go at it for myself. I demanded my driver take me there. But, Before I left, Philo told me to hear him out (so that the words shall evoke my mind into a multi-dimensional illusion that reshaped the fabric of my existence) and I listened. “Watch the foundation of your desires, and you will find the answer to your fathers' death.”
The driver gripped the wheel with his wrinkled, worn hands, and slowly eased his foot onto the gas pedal as if to take in one last breath of the place he called home. He took that breath of air as if it was his first and forever his last. As we drove closer to the lines of the all-knowing hell that my father would unleash upon me; I felt the warm embrace of childhood; the trees and animals moved effortlessly with the land, coexisting with each other in perfect harmony. My soul that would soon be running around in a materialistic wasteland seemed to be trying to restore order within my universe. The trees whistled and waved in the glowing rays of the sun, bringing a romantic kiss of warmth upon my cheeks. I was born back to the first touch of sound that evoked my ears to the harmonious tweets of the birds; where the smells of flora and fauna that surrounded the air and came and went like a warm breeze. I felt my breath come purely into my lungs and out the same. I opened my eyes and as the road narrowed, beyond the perceived beauty of the world that I so falsely remember, and as it closed so did my sense of reality.
In the distance, I could see this dark mass of what my driver told me was the city. He said to me my father used to own all this. Why would he have lived in such a beautiful palace and at the same time possess this city of madness? I came into the city and saw how crazy and beautiful it all was (describe it). I saw the cascading golden arches of the seemingly vibrant and prosperous city, and it gave me a feeling of calmness for going there. The familiarity of leisure calmed my mind for the moment. As we crossed the bridge, I saw a black mass of clouds looming far from the city, that would slowly creep into the cracks in the walls of buildings and see that I experience the true nature of the city. My first encounter with the quality of the city came when I was offered sustenance that only a woman can provide. Shocked at first, I asked her why she needs this. She replied to the fact that it is not something she needs but merely an accessory to her means of survival. This called to my attention the power that money can have. It then occurred to me, the foundations of the city my father built, stemmed from the idealization of money and material wealth. I came back to the palace with more questions than answers but I knew that I had to resume my father's work for I could become what he once was. An outsider among insiders, seemingly, the only one besides my father, who could see the extremities of human emotion and exploit it.
Things were going well. I came to be the wealthiest man in town, and although money did not exist within the confines of the palace, I flaunted it proudly to Philo. He knew it gave me a false sense of identity as I kept up my father's work, and did nothing but quietly watch and never say a word of what I was to become… and yet I was still occupied to the nature of his death, while living through his wealth. I came to Philo one day and asked him about my father's death for the second time. Now by this time I only learned of 2 things my father had built: The palace and its town of simple amenities; and the company which controlled the production of the city itself. I now managed the city and the official residence that palace resided on, and was soon to learn the third thing he built, the idea that I falsely thought I could control.
Philo looked at me with his cloudy eyes of wisdom and knowledge and told me that if I want to know about my father's death, I can either drink this potion (which will fulfill my greatest desires) or look at my index finger which he cut off so long ago. When I went to grab the drink, he cut the rest of my finger off. And asked me, “ is your mind pacified?” A raging ball of energy consumed me and that same feeling of the stars, that align and quickly fade away, briefly came over me. Unfortunately, I did not take that moment to derive the message of coexistence in the highest, most beautiful, feeling of ecstasy; and the lowest, most terrifying feeling of anguish, sadness, and despair into my present consciousness. I forcibly took the vile from the withering skin of my dear friend that fed me for so many years, would be the start of my personal hell and downfall. I tried to make him tell me what happened to my father but he would not speak.
I came back to the city to figure out how to use my newly acquired powers. I had rapidly accumulated enough wealth to feed and clothe everyone four times over. The people of the city became more controllable and valuable than any other natural resource. They became alone, separate from any other resource, afraid of death. They were at the will of my hand and disobedience meant they were made to be an example. This alone made them controllable. The protests and riots were all put down for my abilities had grown to be able to remove humans from their authentic train of thought. I created a race dedicated to my dominance of the natural world. The last day of this came when I had no more minds to control. Except for Philo’s, one which was never susceptible to the divinity of my being.
I figured out I couldn't control his mind, for some reason the powers of the potion never seemed to work on him. By the time I had rid the world of human experience, it was too late to find out that the joy of life came from the unpredictable nature of things; the world I knew now was only one full constant machine. When the future is already here and you know the outcome of what lies ahead, human life starts to become dull and boring. I had become full of desire, and that desire is the foundation of what stopped human liberation of the mind. I had no more joy in life for I had no one possibly to share it with anymore.
Philo asked me if my mind had found the pacification it was looking for. And as I looked up into his eyes, I saw my finger that had been cut off so long ago, was there. At that moment, I saw that my mind had overtime, become something effectively separate and indescribable from the world around me. Because there was the disappearance of my problem. I no longer desired for the causation of my father's death, or for the wealth that he created. My mind is not separate from the world that it evokes around me; just as the world around me is not separate or different from my body, which evokes my thoughts and state of being.
The fabric of reality began to shift to one that I knew before and the perceptual doors to the cage of death slowly closed. And Phil looked into my eyes with the pureness and innocence of a child; “Time to back to this beautiful madness”