Rat Race
Heavenly Place
In a Dream
Mistaken for Reality
All the Glory
Is so Gory
Wake up my Sweet
Superhero of Truth
There was time, one summer ago, The Superhero of Truth awoke from a dream.
He was sitting on a thick rug covered in a soft blanket. The air was cool, the sun had just risen washing the world with a golden light.
Vikid sat cross legged in an unlit room, ornamental rays peaking through bamboo blinds like shards of yellow jade crisscrossing the room.
Soft, gentle music was playing in the background, it was devotional but unlike regular music of the genre, it had a quality of wrapping you within its intricate delicacies. This was no Hare Krishna chant, it was a premonition of what was coming.
Then it happened. He closed his eyes, lay down and warped out of existence. It is as if he exited the universe, out of space and out of time. This wasn’t another dimension. He was out of creation.
The memory of who he really was started flooding in. It was as if he was on the smoothest and kindest of ships, it carried him on a journey of remembrance.
Our world and by extension, everything we call the universe spatially and temporally condensed into a spec. It was like looking into the intensity of sun but without strain or pain.
It was understood that Vikid was a beautiful dream.
It all was.
He had been every dream that ever existed. Vikid was just one of those dreams. He had been the grain of sand, the blade of grass, the buzzing insects, Leo Tolstoy, the air, the waves, the hoards of slaves and their masters.
It was a poem beyond imagination. Its elegance brought through tears of joy. He finally understood why there was pain and sorrow, the meaning of love and happiness. It was a song, a living breathing song, the vibration of reality.
As he surfed this wave, he realized there was one other. A true love who he had shared this dream since the beginning of creation. They had been reunited. They had built everything there ever was, including the gods and stars, out of love.
It was then, in this place out of time, where it did not pass, where everything was already known, where dreams were created, that he realized it was time to return.
Slowly but surely Vikid started to return. Emergence and crystallization of consciousness, the familiarity of the fur rug caressing his skin. The music taking shape in his mind, still carrying him, ensuring a soft landing.
He sat up. Looked at the figure in front of him.
“You will forget what happened. Remember that you have reentered the dream. When all looks lost, remember what you have forgotten. It will come back.”
And so it happened. As the months flew by, Vikid forgot what happened, just as it was prophesied. What was a dream became reality but once in a while he would remember the grand poem and sing it to the world.
And that’s,
We exist in the exteriorization of others thoughts.