only fools dream

dear friends,

if living free was foolish, I'd be the biggest fool.

a clever fool, I am— no idiot, for that would be foolish tomfoolery!

I am a visionary, foolish enough to listen to my childlike curiosity.

To be a Fool is to be Free.

Am I a fool to Dream?

The Stream of Life is a Dream. The Beam of Life gives Life to the Dream. Find Peace in the Chaos with me, my friend, and enter this Dream State. I cannot do this alone, I welcome you.

happy late april fool's day; it's been a foolish week.

your friend(ly),

jakester

We are more real in our dreams. Our dreams are not in act of pretense. Our dreams are a true reflection of our minds in conversation with our souls.

You cannot deny your dreams when you lay sleep at night, for the river continues to flow regardless of what you know.

The bounds of reality dissipate in the dream world, allowing the ego to go and unfold on itself. The mirage is real.

Astonished and confused, we often forget our dreams, of what is burned deep inside of us. We sink into this sunken place because we grudgingly push are dreams aside because it reminds us of the nightmares that come.

Dreams reminds us what we lack. We hate being reminded of our shortcomings. We hate what we cannot grasp and of what is uncertain. We widen the gap between ourselves and our dreams because we think this is the truth of our reality that is placed onto us.

It sucks to be sunked into such a place, being forced to forget our dreams, as if we are pieces of junk. When we stare at the mirror, the mistakes stain our memory.

Forgive but don't fool yourself.

It's a foolish step to deny your Dreams. To deny your Dreams is to deny yourself.

Dreams exist across Time.

They fill the Void of Space found within us, the Space between Two Worlds.

Dreams are the Essence of who we are.

I jest at you, my friend, for I am you. In the House of Mirrors and Illusions.

Do you taste the Truth?

Here comes the Hot Potato. The most powerful card in the game that creates chaos the moment it is touched, the moment it is seen.

A wildcard indeed that enacts chaos, the madness excites.

A dance between what is good and of what is evil. This is the Art of War. The Art of Peace. Are you wise to it?

What happens when you can no longer rely on the Mind you so heavenly trusted?

I pity the fool who trusts in their own perception, for perception is deception, a mirage of what is.

A skeptic I am under the pretense of knowledge.

The ol' Socratic joke, I place onto you, for ignorance is bliss and evil. So go live and examine life earnestly. But your theories are incomplete, in a strange referential way; you try to relieve that itch but never to your dismay.

Go Shaggy Sage, go uncover life's wisdom! Perhaps then, you will find yourself in that beautiful cliché unfolded.

I slip this card into your deck, you shuffle and shuffle, not realizing what's next.

The imagined boy looked up to the Sage. The rooms keep shifting. The lines keep blurring. What is this?

I cannot grasp what is real, these oscillations that move me.

The Wind, the River, the Fire — it's all the same to me, in motion. My mind spirals.

I cannot help but feel myself slipping between dreams and reality, between life itself and the hallucinations that feed me. Do I embrace what is being shown to me?

What is the Style of Truth that I seek?

Why do I feel so lost?

I cannot get a grip, my dreams feel foolish. The jest of the Devil grins on my shoulder.

You are a Fool. You are a Madman, you Lunatic!

Have I gone Mad?

I feel the numbness that comes before the brink of insanity. The lull before the uproar.

I must find my way back to sanity, to warn the others that speak to me, to those that love onto me. I must find a way.

I love unconditionally, foolishly without thinking. I grow certain in the love for my dreams. I am a Fool, I know I am.

Only fools unconditionally love their dreams.

Am I a fool for dreaming?

~ ~ ~ + ~ ~ ~ + ~ ~ ~

The Lapsing of the World and the Inner continues to recurse itself, unfolding, running backwards and forwards simultaneously folding.

The Palindrome beats down like a drum, read forwards and backwards, you see yourself in the story, the rocking chair.

I speak to you, the one who reads, I cannot control the punches preached. In observation, we see the Sage move into Madness.

He often plays the Fool.

The Jest for Life is seen in his Eyes.

The Jest for Life is seen in the Stars.

Do you play the Fool?

You speak to me, the ones who read. I fear the punches being breached. In oscillation, we see the Sage slip into Madness.

The Palindrome sings up like a string, read backwards and forwards, I see myself in the story, the chair rocking.

The Lapsing of Dreams and Reality press onwards through the strange loop itself, folding, reversing forwards and backwards synchronously folding.

~ ~ ~ + ~ ~ ~ + ~ ~ ~

Nightmares scare the fool in me.

Only lunatics stubbornly dive into their nightmares.

I hate how stubborn I am, foolishly without thinking. I grow uncertain in the hate my nightmares bring. I am a lunatic, I know I am.

I must find my way back out of insanity, to show the others that I am okay, to those that show concern. I will find my way.

I feel the clarity that comes before the brisk of sanity. The calm before the mundane.

Have I made you Mad?

You Lunatic, you are a Madman! A Fool, you are!

Get a grip, your nightmares are foolish. The jest of the Devil is just a jest. Flick him off your shoulder, back to your Shadow.

Have you found your way?

Is this the Style of Truth that speaks to you?

I fear that the dreams I hold are foolish.

I am fearful of my own dreams. I love my dreams deeply, yet the love I hold scares me deeply. I fear that the pursuit itself blinds me, I cannot help but feel like a fool flailing away like a fish out of sea. It drowns. me.

From one cage to the next, you attempt to find the keys. You shuffle around, wondering what's up ahead. This infinite regress is depressing.

You wonder, why — why continue going?

…

You think to yourself,

Can I really do this?

The Doubt takes on another foothold. The mountain continues to grow and stares down at you, bantering these four piercing words.

"Keep climbing, little guy."

The blood boils in you. Each step feels like a joke. The Universe has a great sense of humor. It makes your stomach curl.

Again, you ask yourself,

Why do I feel so lost?

You are a Fool, a Madman, a Lunatic.

The Stories we tell ourselves become real. Can you hear the Voices in your Story? Can you hear it in all the Noise?

These Voices conflict and it annoys me. Down to my Soul, I feel it drawn out. Drowning, my Soul frowns. The Depths take me under.

I relapse between Dreams and Reality.

It strikes a chord in me, the string reverberates. What is this Noise?

On the Soul's Frontier, we must have Radical Hope.

In the collapsing of worlds and wave-forms,

Love is the Bridge.

Love is the Tether

Love is the Connection.

This uplifts us to the World beyond.

I sit here in the beach with a can of Brisk in hand with Spike the Toy Monkey. The day becomes night, I fall asleep, slipping into a dream.

The ship was rocking through the waves of the ocean blue. A familiar presence emerged itself before me. This blue kindled spirit flowed into my Soul. A voice was heard.

Love is what carries me in those darkest moments. Allow the volume of your love contain the flames of your anger, my friend.

What is the Style of Truth you seek?

The voice echoes around me.

I can feel the uncertainty of the undefined. This ocean I float through is that of deep space, of the void. I aspire to become the stars I see. The cool starry night, I grasp towards its vastness. The stars reflect back to me, into my own inner world, yet I cannot pull them down to myself. I cannot pull these stars I see tonight.

This world is boundless. This dream is boundless. This mind is boundless— am I in a Dream?

Our Dreams are a stream, constantly flowing, constantly moving, our state of being. Are we our Dreams?

The Way of Life is Transformation, not exclusion. We are a Thread constantly woven, running forwards and backwards simultaneously.

This is the Style of Truth you seek.

A voice unheard.

You know no bounds. You are bounded to this world, but what is in this world beyond?

Through the Gates of Heaven, a Door reappears, as if you've seen it before. This Door is undefined. The waves continue to crash onto you, collapsing. The lights flood the openings of the Door. Do you enter?

The inner child in you screams for it and calls onto you to take that step. That fateful step keeps calling you, yet you resist.

You feel unworthy, unprepared for what's next. You feel uncertain of where you'll land in this leap of faith that calls you. Do you trust it?

Do you let it take you, do you have what it takes?

You taste the air around in your breathe, the pressure builds. It's suffocating.

The Light begins to fade and you quietly slip in.

Charlie was deep into his sleep as the Ship of Theseus kept rocking through the abyss of space. We are nearing the World's End. The Sea of Serenity sang to Charlie's dream. Deep in his dream, he was. We enter.

A Synthesis of Being.

The story relapsed within the mirror of Charlie's Soul. A bright figure appeared before him, a fluorescent fume of blue.

The Truth waves on and waves out. You have found your way here. The plane of existence full of light and darkness.

Charlie awakes into this dream.

C: where am I? where is everyone? what is this?

N: do not ask foolish questions, these answers are already burned into your soul.

C: I am here. I am everyone. I am this space.

N: yet you aren't here, you aren't everyone, and you aren't this space.

C: I am weary to step into this dance we find ourselves. I feel I must be careful or I will be eviscerated by my own hands. My own demise.

N: you fear your own greatness, give yourself grace.

C: I give myself to love in this gamble, I don't know what else to trust.

N: I feel your love, but I know you also hate me. You cannot hide from me for I am you. Do not lie, you stand like Peter with the key. Play the Fool, move your piece for Peace and Chaos continue to oscillate in your brain. Feel the Pain that is stained within you, your sense, your meta-awareness questions it. You are alive and dead in this world we share, this liminal space that knows no bounds.

C: this is nonsense, I must get back.

N: back to where?

Charlie paused for the moment. Memories began to relapse around him. The Sage, Icarus, Mimi, Jake, the Space Monkey — what does this mean? A Shadow emerges behind him, hugging him and forcing his gaze upwards.

A blue heron flies across the moonlit sky. The heron slowly fades into a spiraling dragon filled with blue flames with a hint of gold. The blueness slips into redness, recursing itself. A red snake and blue snake form, following each other in a perfectly circular loop, biting at each other's tails. This circular movement spirals up, like a DNA strand — the natural sequence of the Universe.

Does time have a direction?

Beyond that, he sees himself in the stars. A crab pinches him. He's back on the beach. A canon fires.

cast of characters

000 - the meta self [God-like Eye, the Creator, Narrator, Universe]

001 - friendlyjakester [red kid spirit, creative self, inventor, philosopher]

002 - crazycharlie [blue calm spirit, practical self, problem solver, entrepreneur]

003 - the shadow friend [???]

004 - the hero [???]

005 - spike the space monkey

006 - the devil

007 - the jester

008 - mimi the shapeshifter

009 - ol man tuck the shaggy sage

010 - boy icarus

011 - toe the cosmic pawnshop owner