fictional birthday

It is 3:11 am, I was born on March 11, it is kind of a time to wake up. Well, wake up … I would rather say time to sleep, but what can I do if dreams do not come?

People are strange and I feel like a stranger. I cannot fall asleep now, I make things bigger then they are. When searching for answer I observe that instead of looking inwards I try to find it elsewhere… on the internet, books, while the best and I would say even conforming way to start a search is to begin with oneself. Easier said then done, and even though I do not follow this advice as often I think there is much of truth in it.

Hmm I am tired. And I would like to write something. But I do not know what to write. I am in between past and future… That is quite an interesting reflection. Very many things are finishing at this moment in my life. Once I am done with my university (soon), I have to move out of the city. So this element of past is ending. The future is unclear too. I do not have concrete plans I do not have a new place to go, and I am waiting for something to show up. Well waiting, I am trying to increase the opportunity to get in contact with my future, to bring it closer to me. But things are not working out now… I suppose I shall focus on my thesis now… but again it is easier said then done. As now I cannot sleep. My eyes are closing and my mind is restless. Falling asleep is like a dream-world, which can be entered even through this type of writing activity. I feel that I am not patient enough. I would like to have things right away, and once I have them I eat them all at once… well not always but into certain extend it is true, otherwise I would not be writing about it.

indigo light

After they found themselves in the endless space, they started to breathe the omnipresent indigo light. They look at each other and wanted to say a word, however no sound came out of their melodious lips. Their minds were so interconnected, that they had no need to communicate by words. Telepathy prevailed instead, remembering the unity with the universe. They sang beautiful lyrics that only the greatest poets could compose, if only heard. Softer they sang intensified the absent geyser of enlightening resonance was.

It was the first step into their real existence.
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