And me, who am I? Nobody. I am no body. I just steer the physical body existing in this moment. Not a singular, circular, rectangular thought floating across my mind. Even the concept of (I), now too distant to describe. Inner eye. "My eyes are open," I announced loudly to the elves occupying that place which holds my (true) conscious mind. When I sleep it's as if my I has died. Dream visions become sensations. Floating and morphing across a fifth-dimensions' time. I sleep 8 hours and 400 years, simultaneous. Next time I must think, "don't fight it, it's fine" and leap into the sleep with childish excitement. Head up, arms spread wide. Let me fly, it's time.
I’ve been having these … dreams? Since working with DMT to process some of my trauma. It’s like I go to sleep and die.
It’s not frightening, but almost like I’m experiencing a sort of ego-death in sleep, without the use of psychadelics.
I’m no longer attached to an identity at night. All time disappears, and attachment to the current reality.
I could have been asleep for minutes or centuries.
And when I wake up it takes time to reattach to myself.
When I’m dreaming it’s no longer visual. My dreams are feelings… sensations.
For the first time that I can ever recall, I look forward to falling asleep at night.
