Multitudes

We each of us contain multitudes, an infinity of being, of potential, of possibility.  Of what was, what is, and what could be.  We are all poured down countless paths all at once, here and everywhere.  In this infinity of self, this faceted eternity housed within a small outer shell, time is only a matter of perspective.

I am Moving, in my dream.  I am Flying, slipping through layers of infinity, and I can see so much that could be and could have been.  It isn’t memory, not exactly, not in the sense of a coherent, linear order of events, but it is the Past.  I am standing on a hill that ripples a deep amethyst under a sky that seems to reflect the color, waves of purple grass cascading across the ground like an an ocean, capped by frothy white flowers that surge and foam across the surface of that ocean.  I throw my arms out and tilt my head to the sky, as the wind whips through my silver-gold hair, my white dress.  I can feel the cold grass between my toes, and breathe deep of the fragrance of flower and grass, a hint of distant mountaintop snow on the wind.

I sing.  When I wake from this dream, I will not recognize the language, and it will rapidly fade from my memory, but for now the song is alive, breathing, reverberating through time and space and dimension.  Every molecule of my body quivers with it, resonates in harmony with everything around me.  The song expands outward, wave after wave rolling into the limitless expanse of All That Is, melody entwining seamlessly with harmony, shifting back and forth.  I am singing with the universe, as she too sings.  I could never sing solo.

When I wake, I am, for a moment, within my mind, still this silver-haired wild thing, feral heart pounding relentlessly.  I can still hear the song.  Musical language continues to reverberate in my mind, and I let it flow from my lips.

Then I am fully awake, and I realize with a feeling like tumbling into an abyss that such things are forever closed to me, except in dreams.