Graphite Dreams

Last night, a dream: Went looking for the coloured pencils that a teacher had given me and couldn't find them. Turned out that all pencils, all mechanical means of writing/drawing, had been thrown away. The government, in an attempt to secure its place in history, confiscated all non-electronic means of recording one's activities, forcing all citizens to use electronic writing/drawing pads, mobile phones, gaming systems, etc., so that the government could automatically track and control the citizens instead of letting corporations use electronic data for free trend analysis and future product trendsetting. Independent thinkers started burning logs and sticks to make charcoal writing tools, scratching out ideas and stories on the insides of hollowed-out doors and chewing gum wrappers. Eventually the government banned firemaking devices such as matches, propane lighters, and flint, as well as stopped the production of body makeup equipment - eyeliner, powdered facial colouring, etc. - anything that dissidents could use to write or draw in the analog world. The last freedom fighter was caught in a desperate attempt to spread a message by plowing words in a field. All non-robotic farm equipment was then melted and turned into computerised implements. Just as I was waking up, corporations were banding together to simultaneously stop making corporate tax payments in order to form private armed security forces of their own to compete against government armed forces and put a stop to runaway government growth, giving the people back their hard-earned money and let them pay for services on a pay-as-you-go basis - toll roads, "pure" research laboratory reports, prepaid medical services credit cards, daily/weekly/monthly/quarterly/yearly educator leasing programs and a few other items that seemed interesting in my dreams but quickly disappeared as I woke up to the sound of a lightning strike near my house.

I should not look at coloured pencil artwork for too long or drink a large cup of coffee and eat a strawberry ice cream sundae just before I go to bed. Obviously the combination creates vivid dreams, too close to reality for comfort sometimes it seems on this wonderful rainy day which brightens up the lichen and moss in our yard.

In secondary school concert band class years ago, I intercepted a note being passed from Tammy R to David C. David said something to the effect of "I think Rick's in love with you." Tammy responded, "Rick would fall in love with a piece of shit." Have I told you about this? I feel like I have. For years, I kept the collection of notes passed in classes, mainly from about the 3rd year to the 12th year in school but including a few in my post-secondary education classes. I would reread them to invoke fond memories, especially the one about my falling in love. What people say about you when you aren't supposed to know are usually the most honest and straight-to-the-point comments.

Of course, Tammy was/is right. I was born with the affliction of being in love with the world around me. For years, I fought this tendency to fall in love, trying to hide it because too many people interpreted my looks and actions in sexual terms when either I wasn't interested or I was already bodily committed to some woman at the time.

This is my world. You are my people. I love every one of you unconditionally and dislike seeing you find ways to hate and fight one another over misunderstood illusions and symbolism.

I get drawn into some people's illusions because they seem so promising and then I find out later on there is exclusivity built into the illusions, where people declare their illusions, their visions, are only good for a certain kind of person in a certain frame of mind. I love them despite their illusions but I don't love their illusions in equal measure.

I am not perfect. After all, I am this body that I'm not. I do not meet the definition of social acceptability across all cultures or social conditions. I am not trying to be anyone, not even myself. There is no being to be done. There is only me existing in this moment.

Thus, it is time for my next phase of existence. I do not know what it is even though I know what it will be. I understand that to fill the pages of the Book of the Future I have already seen about myself, I will withdraw from active participation in the cyclical descriptions of what's taking place in the exchange of goods and services between our people. I will spend the next few days and weeks meditating alone, away from electronic means of communications, away from television screens, without active use of mobile phones, and mostly away from people. I will simply be myself in the moment, tending our garden, repairing our dilapidated house, feeding our cats, talking with my wife and stepping out of the FHMS flow. In other words, real freedom, being alone with my thoughts while others carry on the business of the day. I know I will be tempted to see what's going on, to feel like I need to nudge people along the path to get us up and off this planet but I will not. If others do not want to carry on this extraplanetary exploration task without me then the task is not important. It is the burden of being a person who will not exist in history - before I get drawn into feeding my vanity further, it is best that I remove myself from where our societies are headed and let those who know and understand where the Book of the Future is taking us to take us there without me thinking anything I say or do is important. Our destinies are intertwined but they are not the same.

I have fulfilled the terms of the contract I casually made with folks like Fred, Bud, Urmi and Julia by keeping the flow of information going, letting you know about all that's happening around us, including tracking ship locations and satellite paths. There is no more I need to do for you. My job here is done. Time to let our world go on without me typing here. I want to pull up the stakes on my travel trailer, attach the hitch and drive on my wandering wonderer path, perhaps alone in body, perhaps not. The rest of our history is up to you - you know what to do. Perhaps you will run out of words, too, like coming to the end of the charted map and see that unknown territory before you. Do you see it already? Wonderful, isn't it? Get lost. It's fun!

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This ends the short book on skepticism, doubt and criticism. I don't know if I'll write another book. I feel my next adventure is less about writing about us in this heavily-subsidized space and more about simple, frugal living in the moment. Like my previous experiments in online writing - AOL Hometown and geocities, to name two - I know this blog will disappear behind me like sand castles built on low tide shorelines. A mantra is made of many particles, including electronic text. I need a new mantra to hold my attention because putting down these words has become too easy. Can I meditate on changing weather patterns? I think I can. I've already started. It is my goal, the vision or illusion I see in the Book of the Future or the fuzzy image in the crystal ball covered with new dust, to more clearly see the interaction between air, water, land and tectonic plates. To understand our planet's movement through the solar wind inside this solar system cloud that spins in the Milky Way galaxy, subject to gamma ray bursts and other universal influences. Can we "beam" a copy of our planetary system to another part of the galaxy or universe? First, how do we capture the whole state of existence, all the interdependent parts of this cooling rock we're on? Do we have to if this planetary system is constantly changing? See you in the future when I and others get this figured out. However, I may just skip it if I discover all over again that no matter what I do, I'm repeating cycles I can't get out of. However, I may just skip it if I discover all over again that no matter what I do, I'm repeating cycles I can't get out of. However, I may just skip it if I discover all over again that no matter what I do, I'm repeating cycles I can't get out of.

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