The birth of a universe. A single moment of white and in a mere moment spinning fragments of worlds spread out, pushing to the boundaries of sight and then thought and then mind. And beyond that lies only the darkness of the unexplored. And somewhere beyond that…
I know this world. It is my world. Here you are different. Here you are unique. Your inner most desires are writ upon your form, shaping your being and letting all see into your own soul, even if you should deny your own true nature. It is a place of eternal self discovery and endless possibility, and the physical form of this world is as varied as the people in it; to each is a different perception, an idea slate to which they paint their soul all the colours of their being and experiences. It is a place of sadness and beauty, ever on the edge of reality, just beyond the folds of your life, just beyond reach. It comes to you.
All you have to do is dream.
I recall my own decent. I slept poorly and the night was almost morning, and yet my eyes did hurt from the lack of sleep and still I could not stop perceiving the dark room around me. It was maddening and infuriating, and the world wanted to hold me for whatever reason. This made me yearn for the warm grip of sleep all the more, and I pushed towards my own subconscious, perhaps too hard, and I fell through.
Somewhere on the other side of sleep was a place I had known for a long time, and yet I had never been there. It was my muse, always present and long forgotten, a city of infinite size and twice the possibilities, and it was mine. And so as I owned it, so did it own me, and I was enraptured by it, consumed and comforted, held and embraced by a power I had tasted before.
That of the author. I was now this places guardian and caretaker, and I would remain so as long as I and the city* saw fit.
Long have I been here, incorporeal in form and focused upon every mind within it, guiding and helping and caring and consoling as people learn of themselves and others, living in a world of their own creation that is both more real than their true life and a pale reflection of the glorious complexity of the true world.
Over my time here I have come to several realisations, but the most import thing I have learned is that there are no limits to who you are and what you can be, and putting yourself in and then clinging to a world of make believe will limit yourself. This is but a stop on life’s great journey, and all who linger here must be saved if they are to ever wake.
I too will one day leave, perhaps handing the burden of author to another, more worthy soul. And then I shall wake, wondering at the strange dream I had that seemed to go forever.
Until then.
Welcome to my world.
Welcome to Reveal.
***
*1 I call it the city but in truth it is all things to all people. That is to say, different depending on who is looking.
Tags: Chapter One, The Author
