Well this is the penultimate chapter. All that is left is one the final poem.
This was a strange one. There is no god – only mind – only a universal mind – an artist who painted with universes. Each universe painted in dreams, with dreams. All we are is the fabric of dreams. We are reality dreams.
10.
Not stretching, not reaching, just existing. The universe was not just a single entity in the flux of space. Time plays tricks creating infinite variety within the one. Time was lengthened and shortened in an endless series of dimensions. They all coexisted at the same point in space. In one dimension a hundred years was a fleeting second. It was because of these distortions of time that they were all separated. There was an infinite variety of infinite space and time.
Each dimension represented an empty canvas for the artist’s hand to decorate.
The artist lived and sketched for pleasure and not for gain or recognition. He created a picture that would endure using the tools stored in his memory. It was his life’s work to create. Creation was a necessity. Life would be unthinkable with the possibility of masterly change and the striving towards an elusive perfection.
Mind travelled the ether at will, seizing nothing and moulding it into shape and form. Worlds and whole universes were formed instantly. He had perfected his craft.
Mind always chose a few particular worlds to concentrate on populating. For some obscure reason all these intelligent beings seemed to believe the whole universe was created for their benefit. It was amusing. Mind found it quite endearing. He could not imagine why they would seek to idolise him and worship him when they were all of the same material – an illusion – a dream – a dream within a dream within a dream.
Mind moved between his worlds enjoying the way things evolved. There was excitement at the way the creations matured and progressed, but as with all things the excitement dimmed. He moved on to a new inspiration. Sometimes the creatures destroyed the very thing they lived off and laid waste to all the rest of the creation – that upset him. Occasionally he would sweep them aside and create a replacement. Some imperfections grew into irritations with their pompous arrogance and became exceedingly annoying. They did not develop as he had hoped.
But an artist is rarely satisfied. No canvas is ever completed – merely abandoned.
When it became depressing he moved on quickly but occasionally he would introduce a new element into the theme to jazz things up and pour life into a stale or rancid construction.
Back through countless dimensions mind’s past endeavours spun and buzzed and changed as they progressed through their respective ages. Occasionally he would flick through these exhibitions of his work as one might a picture book. He always noted, and often enjoyed, the subtle changes that had occurred as his basic plans were developed. Sometimes there were great changes to the aspects of his dreams that were enthralling. They never ceased to fill him with fresh inspiration. They often threw him into a fresh burst of activity and prevented any lapse into apathy and boredom that he so often had to endure.
Mind, like everybody else, had favourites that he would often return to. He would delight in throwing in a new detail and take delight in the confusion and chaos that his visits invariably left in their wake. Occasionally he would imagine himself up an avatar to join and participate. He would wander and live among the crowds and taste the life his thoughts had created. Then there were others that left him less interested, that he tended to abandon to wander through their existence and degenerate.
In this latest creation he felt great empathy. He had brought so many different elements together to create something unique. He had created it without too much thought. It had been one of those spontaneous moments where consciousness did not intrude and the creativity flowed effortlessly. He had frustratedly abandoned his last creation and this had come about in some reflex stroke of creation. Somehow the lack of conscious thought seemed to have resulted in a masterpiece. He could feel the electricity run through his mental faculties. He was wondrously happy.
My books are available on Amazon in paperback and digital formats. They are world-wide!
In the UK you might like to browse through on my link below: For overseas visitors please refer to your local Amazon. You’ll find me there.
https://www.amazon.co.uk/Opher-Goodwin/e/B00MSHUX6Y/ref=sr_tc_2_0?qid=1475747471&sr=1-2-ent
In the USA:
In the USA – https://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Dstripbooks&field-keywords=opher+goodwin
Here’s a few selected titles:
Rock Music
- The Blues Muse – the story of Rock music through the eyes of the man with no name who was there through it all.
2. In Search of Captain Beefheart – The story of one man’s search for the best music from the fifties through to now.
Science Fiction
1. Ebola in the Garden of Eden – a tale of overpopulation, government intrigue and a disaster that almost wipes out mankind, warmed by the humanity of children.
2. Green – A story set in the future where pollution is destroying the planet and factions of the Green Party have different solutions – a girl is born with no nervous system.
Kindle & Paperback versions:
The Environment
1. Anthropocene Apocalypse – a detailed memoir of the destruction taking place all over the globe with views on how to deal with it.
Education
- A passion for Education – A Headteacher’s story – The inside story of how to teach our children properly.
There are many more – why not give them a go! You’ll love them!