Convergence and Separation

I said, I just want to lie down and dream all day. Reality will never be as good as my imagined universe.

___ said, When you get those perfect, amazing moments, I promise you reality can be even better.

I didn't believe him then. But soon after, I experienced one of those moments, and I realised he was right.

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It felt surreal, dream-like almost. But there was a natural and effortless conviction to the whole thing. When what was once a dream now became a memory: that was the materialisation of something that evolved organically. A transient, fleeting snapshot in the unfolding of spacetime; some manifestation of the wave function – it collapsed, and a perfect, ephemeral moment was instantiated. It felt almost preordained, prewritten – the way we moved in earnestly, without question. A spontaneous convergence.

Laughter, incredulous and disbelieving. A fountain that bubbled forth.

I brought forth the fountain because I trusted myself. Because I projected an openness, a vulnerability, a certain kind of boldness. Because I put my inside on the outside. And all the words that scarcely left my lips came from a place of spontaneity and truth. I said little, but created so much. Left parts of myself out in the world.

In that single moment lay the discarding of years of oppression, self-censoring, insecurity, and shame. I stepped out of the cocoon of self abhorrence. I said simply, This is me, as me as I'll ever be.

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And then, the separation.

The end, I said.

But there wasn't even a beginning, he said.

How can something that never began ever have an end?

And that is why it will be endless, eternal – this memory, this dream.