Every day things around me seem progressively less and less real and more and more dreamlike. I have moments where I just stop and stand absolutely still, forgetting completely where I was going and not caring… these moments dont frighten me anymore, and instead I’m just enjoying the curious moment where I feel like I’m suspended by belief alone that the floor below me is there, about to watch the whole circus of ‘reality’ around me peel away and realise its all an elaborate dream we’re all participating in, and at some deep down level maybe we all know it. We’re all so good at deceiving ourselves with the grandest of illusions about ourselves that everyone else can plainly see, so why not an illusion of ‘reality’ as well?

Im starting to feel less connected to the history that makes me who I am, the grand memories, my thoughts and even strong emotions about things. I still have them, but afterwards I laugh about it like I just took part in a very ridiculous spectacle or play with another being, also going about, like actors that have become so engrossed in the role they are playing that they forget who they are. We take it all very seriously.

And something else is happening… I’m losing my sense of self preservation. I still have these moments, like a reflex, from being in a human body built to defend itself and survive at all costs, but then afterwards I just wonder why I even worry. Its not like we can control when we’re going to die, and its 100{a9f0d31f6175b3e4775e11a66c07db268fb74408d6095f6b46eeec420c0e9f62} guaranteed going to happen eventually… and even so… Im not totally convinced that this grand spectacle we’re all living is all there is when it is starting to feel so much more layered than that. Somehow it just feels like we’re all in this together, and I feel connected to the trees when I touch them just as much as when I hug a friend, like I know what it is to be a tree somehow. Even when one of us bows out the show goes on and in so many different forms and possibly in every far reaching part of the universe in some way or another. On this plane of reality.

If we are constantly swapping electrons with the things we can see around us, constantly recycling while magically retaining this visage of form that we feel makes us so unique, held together through sheer belief, (despite the fact that there is vastly more space surrounding the atoms than the atoms that make us – which logically to me means that we should be practically invisible) having every electron in us replaced eventually from another being, another object or just the sky around us… and even the people we have loved who have ‘passed on’ being recycled through us and other things… all these invisible things moving through us, vibrating and pulsing with life force… and if we and everything around us are made of star dust from the very womb of the universe, connecting every single one of us to the very source… and if it is true that energy never dies, that it just is and it cannot go away… then why fear death? I mean, why even call it death? Why have a name for it? It just seems so short sighted somehow. So completely missing the point.

And so I find myself standing motionless for ages in the strangest places sometimes, wondering if I’m Awake.