My Weird Surreal Sixties Book – Part 2 Chapter 5 – Mind over Matter

This was a strange bit of poetic prose. I chose to write it out in this broken manner because the words had a metre and resonated in different clumps other than what you can achieve with grammar. The spiciness lightened it up so that it was easier to duigest and pick at.

It is humorous and playful yet thought provoking and dangerously subversive.

By now I reckon you must be understanding why I chose to call it Reality Dreams.


In the void.

Here was nothing coupled with mind and matter.

Mind unsure of itself

And matter with no sense of reality.

All the time exploring

And wondering.

‘Did I do that?’

‘Is this mine?’

‘Did I make this?’

‘Was that a coincidence?’

‘Was this always here?’

How could he find reality when all he thought and dreamed became real?

‘Why am I here anyway?’


Mind decided that he needed to get his thoughts

A little more orderly.

He needed to understand what he was creating.

It was cluttering up the space around him.

This was very necessary

In order to ascertain what else there was

Outside of himself.


What was left over

After he had sorted out his own possessions

Must have been created by something else.


‘Was there anything?’

‘Who was it made by?’




It was all very baffling.

‘Was it by accident?’


There was no firm proof.

There were no answers.

Mind would accept nothing on face value.

He always questioned himself.


‘Now first of all –

Is there anything I don’t know?’


How could mind tell?

They were unknown.


Mind began to run through a list of questions.

It sped him towards panic.


‘What am I?’

‘What am I doing?’

‘What am I going to do?’

‘How can I find out anything?’

‘How can I be sure that anything I do find out is true?’


These questions

Coupled with his recent adventures

Created a confusing

And perplexing



Worried by his mental health –

After all – it was all he had –

He decided to play around a little

Just to ease the tension

And break up

The seriousness of the situation.


Mind decided

To put together

A few things

As a little diversion –

To bring

A little happiness

Into his world.


So he thought up a  little world

Into his happiness.


Seizing a little matter

That happened

To be floating by,

He rolled it

Here and there,

Shaped it

This way and that.

He altered it here

Destroyed it there

And rebuilt it.


At long last

His artistic side

Came to the fore

And the huge,

Or small

(depending on perspective)

Work of art began.


Using all the utensils available

Plus any more he wished

To invent,

He began the creation

Of the universe

As we figments

Came to know it.


First the rough sketches.

A universe here

A universe there.

A galaxy here


Not quite right,

To the left a little.

Got it!

Hey ho!

A solar system there.


A few more suns

A trillion or so.

A few more planets.

A bit of this

And a bit of that.

A red sun here,

A yellow sun there

A billion blue suns.


He stood back.


Maybe a spot of green on this one here.


After a goodly while he felt a lot happier.

He was enjoying himself.

He had been working quite hard

Lost in play.

It was very relaxing

And he had created a fair bit.


He beamed as he admired his work.

Not bad for a beginner.

It looked pretty

Just like Disneyland

But bigger.

He’d done Disneyland too!

Or at least drawn

The plans up.

He felt proud

And let it settle.


When he came back to it

It was not so good.

In fact it was downright boring.

Nothing was happening.

All those little balls

Hanging in space.

All round and smooth,

Glowing and lifeless.

What next?

He knew.


A quick spin here

A slow spin there

A bit more colour

A flash or two.


‘Not bad.’

‘Not bad at all.’

‘Much better.’


This was becoming something to be proud of.


But all those balls are a little boring –

So round and smooth,

So uniform.

A bit of alteration here –

A bit there.

A few wrinkles.

Throw in a few gasses

A liquid or two

A range of temperature

Sound and colour.

He was enjoying himself.

Attuned and vibrant,

Crashing, clashing

Resounding, Bashing

Silently in the vacuum



Very pleasing though it was

To watch the giant display

It still felt a little empty

A bit too mechanical.

Something was lacking.




That something which made all the difference –

A final touch.

The randomness that

Made a work of art

Special –


To the run of the mill.


Many aeons passed

In pleasant thought

On how to improve

His creation.

It was most relaxing.


Now what if he was to make some things faster?

Subject to laws –


To keep them in patterns

But enabling alteration?

Geometric patterns?


To slightly change?

Things beyond

His control.




If he did not like the results he could always change it back again.

He wanted it to have a life of its own

Within limits

He wanted something with problems

And worries

And limitations

Worse than his own.

Something that could create

On its own

But with limited


Something that could think for itself

A little.

Something that possessed beauty

And growth

Of its own.


He liked the idea.


Some things slow,

Some things quick,

But always changing.


It was a revolutionary breakthrough in ideas.


He started out on one single ball

And spread out through billions more,

Stretching his ideas

And capabilities to the full.

All and everything

His imagination could think of,

The ugly and beautiful,

The transparent and opaque,

The tiny and gigantic.

Some of gas,

Some liquid,

Some solid

And some of nothing

Some a mixture.

Some of atoms

Some of energy

And some of galaxies.


All living

Altering, Growing, changing –


Some asking why.


He called them life.


He gave each atom a spin

And smiled.

‘Why not you too?’

He thought.


He created places

Where they ran

On integration –

To live, change, hide and die –

And allowed it to evolve.


At first there was fascination.

He would sit for millennia

Watching the changing story.

But after a while

He had seen it all.


At last he turned aside

From his new toy

To return

To serious matters.

Glancing back

From time to time

At changing scenes.

To note the changes

And take pleasure

He was happy.


Occasionally annoyance would creep in –

Some disharmonious change

Had come about.

He would sweep in

And eradicate.


One day

Upon return

He noticed something odd.

A single planet

Whose parasites

Had grown all out of proportion.

They were teeming

All over the world,

Overcoming all difficulties

Creating their own

Problems and disasters.

Always hatching new hardships

Divisions and quarrels

Destroying everything

They had in an orgy

Of greed and selfishness.

They were busy

Undermining their own survival –

Altering the balance –

Teetering on the brink of disaster.




Yet even while riding on the brink,

Their thoughts were growing.

Many in among the stupid

Were stretching out

To challenge the structure of infinity.


He occasionally even felt a twinge

As an individual erupted

In a burst of pure ecstasy

To merge with him.


He became obsessed with these strange, tiny creatures

And the idea that maybe

Given time

He could learn

From the creatures he had created.

If they lasted long enough.


He desperately wanted to keep them

From destroying themselves

But knew

That he could not interfere

Or their development would be altered.


Could they offer a clue to nothing?

Find the secrets of something?

Had he inadvertently

Set something loose

That might be instrumental

In answering the questions

In the big underneath?


The creatures were at one and the same time

Separate to him

And part of him.

Could they transcend themselves

To become greater than him?

Would they crack infinity first?


Perhaps it was better to destroy them

While it was still possible?

He had the power

To create or destroy anything he wanted.

But how could he be sure?

He might destroy his only chance

Of finding the answers

To his problems.


He constructed three helpers to help him observe everything they did.

He placed one at each pole and one in the sun.

They were not sufficient.

He split each one into seven.

It did not help him decide

Which course of action to take.

Could they help?

Could he trust them?

He played his cards

He hesitated on the tightrope of indecision.

The entire balance of the universe hung in limbo.

He was afraid of the unknown.

What if he dismantled it now?

The sculpted beauty of his design?

The life he had created?

He knew that it did not matter

In the void.

Nothing would be altered.


A new beginning.

A new ending.


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