A Monologue with the Æther

Self Is the Longest Journey

The Dream

Golden sunlight dapples a verdant glade surrounding a crystalline pool. A gentle breeze sighs through a profusion of green leaved trees. Below covering the grassy clearing, a multitude of flowers sway in the wake of the wind. An army of black ants diligently toil to shape their empire from the dark soil. Grasshoppers and crickets sing out across the glade in their high chirping speech. On the mirror bright pond, dark insects skim the surface while silver minnows leap up to feast on them.

A young man lies in the shady glade sniffing at the silky flowers for their scent. He gazes in wonder at the peaceful life around him. He stares in rapture while the shadows grow longer. The light of understanding slowly, cautiously fills him. This feeling captures his soul. Standing he walks toward the setting sun through the dark rough tree trunks. The sun’s light momentarily blinds him as he passes beyond the shadow of the forest.

He blinks his unbelieving eyes in horror, dropping to his knees. He gasps like a fish out of water trying to breathe. His mouth working in a grotesque parody of speech lets forth an unearthly, eerie moan. Before him, a faceless gray plain of smooth even concrete stretches monotonously unbroken to the horizon and beyond like some becalmed ocean.