- Dream of Friends (a.k.a. Blue Orbs) Cat Kidd
Dream of Friends (a.k.a. Blue Orbs)
The power went out.
I was here, and you were there. It’s possible to do that, to be two places at once, when there are two of you. It was dark for you and light for me, day and night simultaneously, with a rolling ocean in between. There are silver cords connecting you to every place you’ve even been, you said.
But the power went dead and you missed your plane,
and spent the night at a gas station again.
While I, by accident of being on the wrong train,
found myself at Stonehenge –
at the suggestion of a Sri Lankan zoologist, who happened to be there
reading a book about parrots. We’d both noticed that there was a certain something in the air. The sort of day when it was hard to say whether one was asleep or awake. When every imaginable leap of faith seems possible to take,
and you thank the one who tells you to go jump in a lake.
And so you do, you do, you abandon your baggage and leap into the blue.
In the wake of a wake I awake in a lake,
a trembling phrase quaking on my tongue.
The phrase seemed new, in tones that rang true;
the words new baby you, new baby ewe,
drawing me from sleep. Not the you
who was not there with me, but a new baby sheep.
This wisp of a sheep lay curled on my tongue, with an imaginary number painted on its side. / (cotton ball voice) I supposed it had somehow got lost from the fold, or else just needed somewhere to hide. / It hadn’t yet stirred, nor spoken a word except for its new baby name. And so I asked it, telepathically, whence and why it came.
You drifted off as you were counting, came the sheep’s reply —
You closed your mouth as the last sheep passed,
and so here on your tongue landed I.
What you may not know, though, is the fact
that each sheep has a different dream in store.
It would’ve been a nightmare if you’d chosen the sheep before
he takes you to this ghastly room with no windows and no floor.
Then sheep number twelve has you fall from a cliff,
and number eighty leaves you naked in a shopping mall.
I’m not surprised so few of you still bother to count us at all.
But what was painted on the side of this particular sheep was a lower case letter i
which didn’t look much like a number to me, so I had to ask the sheep why?
i am the square root of minus one, said my friend, i don’t really start and i don’t plan to end, but i’m not quite the same as infinity.
i factor in laws of special relativity,
even rumoured to be consciousness itself.
Certain people even think
i may be the key to the mind matter link.
Imagine something very very large
is actually very very small,
or the notion there’s no difference
between anything at all.
Imagine shrinking down centuries
into just a few seconds,
which is just what we’re going to do.
I sincerely hope that this is not
too much to ask of you.
Then the sheep licked my forehead and left a mark there,
in my mind it was a cool blue stone.
It opened like a lower case eye between my brows,
bringing me to the place I am now,
a wide wide field, as green as a parrot.
The new baby ewe had a third eye too,
right in the middle of her forehead it grew,
as a blue beam of light resembling a horn.
It seemed she wasn’t merely a new baby ewe, but a new baby unicorn.
A green green field, you know the place,
seen in dreams and you want to go back there.
You’d swear it’s where you used to play the in the days before your name.
A spreading green beneath your feet, and sky so blue it takes the breath right out of you and sends it back with more space.
Your mind is a tree sprung from this very place.
There’s no difference here between what is and what is not.
Your heart is an peach sprung from this very spot.
[back to narrator]
And there suddenly appears box, covered in white feathers, floating in the air. You are not a bit surprised to see it there, and watch your own hand reach out to meet it. It opens onto a soft nest of red feathers inside, and a glowing red stone.
You recognize it as your very own (heart), and so you pick it up.
Some choices seem easy that way, even if you don’t have a clue at the time
what role they’ll come to play.
The red stone hums in an alien key, locks spring open portals of potentiality.
A sudden wave of change rearranges the scene, and takes us to somewhere we have never been, but always knew was there.
It’s not underground and it’s not in the air, but somewhere else.
It was this that I had come to see, the vision the sheep had foretold to me.
Imagine. A fractal galaxy of blue orbs, spiralling into infinity. Silvery spheres like strings of pearls or strands of cells, the eyes or eggs of fish in endless roes, billions and billions, as far as the eye can see. Blue translucent orbs, each with its own nucleus, containing consciousness of destiny.
Each cell having memory of the whole since prehistory, a factor of unity.
And what I understood immediately was that each and every one knew
everything I’d done, and could see all that I could see –
yet this they were somehow able to do
This was the part which most surprised me.
I had expected some sort of test,
some judgement subjected to one by the rest,
but here I was only eternally blessed by endless gentle understanding,
There was not single thing of which to be afraid, no excuses to be made,
there wasn’t a single thing I could say anyway that they didn’t already know. As though these blue orbs were my own very cells — their health and their happiness were mine as well.
A collective of sentient beings, connected energetically, perhaps genetically, conjoining one life with all the rest. The only test was whether I could trust this sense or no — the question wasn’t whether, but how, I was to go.
Go softly as a monk, they said, take care of the living and honour the dead. You’re each suspended by a subtle thread, connecting each to each. Thus they greeted me, in tones as though a billion voices were woven into one. They spoke in trills like crystal bells, and here is what they had to tell —
We are in need of your assistance. Or you are in need of your own assistance, which would also be good for us. Please leap over your fears and help. There is an archive being constructed and the human chapter is not well edited. We wish not supplicants but companions, as you each discover voice and use it, by following what you love. You find it through attention to your every breath. Please breathe deeply. This is only a tone of desperation as it would be described by yourselves. Everything is inevitable in retrospect. The trail of a snail is always silver.
move evolve love now
evolve love move now
love move evolve
we all know how
we all know how