Eating my Own Dream
A lucid dream is when you know you are dreaming during the dream, so you could basically do anything that you want in it because you know that in the dream world, anything is possible and that nothing has consequenecs. So it’s a space where you get to act out all of your darkest desires and fantasies that were forbidden in reality.
The last time I had a lucid dream I was happily jumping out of the window of my 12 story building and landing on old ladies and driving a huge boat (Titanic sized) on the freeway while running over cars and people and devouring little pre-teen girls that were in the way.
I guess I went to sleep with an empty stomach last night, because this time in my dream I had decided to eat everything that was in it, INCLUDING THE DREAM ITSELF.
Everything started out with me pealing a banana. What the banana skin wrapped around wasn’t a solid banana, but the fabric of language itself in its deepest essence. Its form and content were both represented by the words “EAT IT”. So I did what it said.
I started from the room I was in. I licked and chewed up the ceilings of the room, worked my way up to the walls. The lines between the walls were delicious, so were the corners. Then I began eating all the furniture – chairs, sofas, pillows, and tables. Next, I devoured all the accessories. Clocks were my favorite (hours tasted better than minutes, and minutes tasted better than seconds) followed by the computer screen, speakers, the white keyboards on the piano, and my new portable DVD player.
I moved on to eating information. Even though they weren’t concrete and physical, they filled my stomach up more than anything else I had eaten so far. I ate all 300 new facebook status updates, my ex girlfriend’s old emails, and word documents of all the essays I wrote in college. Then I devoured JPG images of porn stars until all the pixels were stuck in between my teeth. Ironically, the still life painting of delicious looking fruits was the least tasty part of the entire room. I didn’t know whether it was the form or the content of the artwork that tasted bad, but it was disgusting.
After I finished eating all the inanimate objects, I began eating things that were alive. Since I’d eaten all the concrete objects that these organisms could firmly stand and lean on and sit on, they floated in mid-air. This was good because it made it easier for me to hunt them down. I started with all the cockroaches that used to crawl on my walls, and then my family dog. Finally I ate my grandpa. I was very excited because I’ve always wondered what consciousness tasted like, if it has any tastes to it at all. His brain tasted awesome because it contained a lot of deep thoughts and memories and emotions. Brains always tasted good when they were filled with good old memories. They have to be happy memories though because depressed thoughts always tasted sour. That’s why I don’t like the brains of babies. They hardly have anything nutritious in them. Despite a few genetic dispositions, a baby’s mind is more or less a blank slate.
After everything material was eaten, I began eating the last frontier of my dream – the fabric of space and time of the dream itself. I always wondered whether space could rip. The answer was yes (at least in the dream world), but not without effort. It took a lot of energy to tear down the fabric of space with my teeth (a couple of them fell out during the process), but I did it anyway and it tasted like the hybrid between time and nothingness. Since time was so soft and was almost liquidized, I could not chew it, so I sucked it in with my nostrils and mouth with all my might.
When the last bit of time was digested in my stomach, I began to excrete. If the food was the dream itself, then its product is reality. In other words, reality was coming out of my asshole.
Since I was having a lucid dream, I was partly in reality and partly in the dream world. This is when I realized that the last thing I had to eat was myself in order to give birth to another self that would be weavened into reality as a part of its fabric. That means when the dream was giving birth to reality, parts of me that were doing the birthing in the dream world were dissolving and dissipating as soon as the fabric of reality was materializing itself atom by atom and minute by minute. In other words, by eating myself, I was materializing and coming into being in reality while de-materializing and disappearing and been digested at the same time in the dream world. My desertion and evaporation in the dream world by digestion were precisely the energy and impulses that were given rise to reality and the awakened state itself.
Finally, I stopped shitting. Everything is now real and I am awakened. But the real world looks, tastes, and feels just like the dream itself. I am now in the same room, starring at the ceilings and walls and furniture that I had just eaten. And there is my Grandma sitting there, taking a nap on his usual spot. But how can I eat his brains now that both of us are in reality, in fully awakened states of consciousness? Or maybe THIS is the dream world and that the other edible world was reality itself? Am I dreaming of a reality, or is reality dreaming me?
I guess the only way to find out is to eat it, whatever “it” is.
I guess I could start out with the ceilings again…
You know how sometimes, when you sleep with another person next to you, usually your significant other, you would put your arm behind her neck and let her use it as a pillow? Well, I’m sure this has happened to you the way it has happened to me quite often: You wake up before the other person, you want to move, yet you are unable or unwilling to do so because you don’t want to wake up the other person or disturb her sleep. You try to fall back to sleep so that you could go back to the state of immobility, but the more you try to fall asleep, the more uncomfortable you are, the more agitated you become, and the harder it is for you to fall back to sleep. You are going crazy from thirst and stillness and you are pissed off because you really want to move. Should you slowly lift up her head and sneakily pull your arm away from underneath her head? No, I can’t possibly take that chance because even the slightest movement has the potential to wake her up, which can be a rude act that has the aptitude to trigger a series of disturbances and arguments or possibly even a fist fight that could eventually result in break up. So you wait until she makes a turn in her sleep. But what if she is in such a deep sleep that she doesn’t move a muscle until she is awake? What if she is trapped in her dream, or falls into such a deep and long sleep that she doesn’t wake up until you died from waiting and from thirst and hunger?
This was what happened to me. My partner did not wake up in time. We both used each other’s arm as a pillow, but unfortunately I woke up before she did. I waited until every part of my body ached and itched. I waited until my tongue turned into sandpaper. I waited until my body turned to its extreme starvation mode as it began to cannibalize itself cell by cell, tissue by tissue. I waited until I died.
It’s hard to say how much time had elapsed before she finally woke up, but it was too late. She didn’t realize that I had died and thought that I was merely in a deep sleep. She didn’t want to disturb my sleep, so like me; she refused to move and continued to hold on to the same pose so I could continue to sleep with peace. She too, stayed still and waited until she died of hunger and thirst. And now that we are both immobilized for good, we could stay in the same position for as long as eternity without having to worry about waking each other up from this long and final, dreamless sleep.