Dreaming of Immortality 

Dreams are like vampires. They are born and live at night, and they wither in the daylight. They require silence and tranquility seeking only to breathe. They want only to feed in the dark. The visions are clear in the dark. The day distracts with all its lights and shadows creating illusions of a different world than the one we imagine. 

The life. The passion. The purpose is in the dark. The place where no wind blows, no voice destroys, and no counter-thought exists. Imagination is God and God is all. No time, no rules, no story. Just a call and a response. The emotion we shut off at sunrise turns on in the dark. It intoxicates and fills our life with magic, in the dark. The mask melts from our face as the heat from our inner flame intensifies. 

We begin to see ourselves again and wonder why we leave so involuntarily. We don’t ask ourselves permission. We just comply like trained circus monkeys. We cry, and yearn, and scream, and die as we reply “I’m doing good! how are you doing?” We lie because the day is not the place to reveal our face. That’s reserved for the night spell. 

We live at night. We die in the morning. You know who transcends? The Immortal. The Immortal don’t recognize day and night. They recognize only God. God is all. The wisdom, courage, strength and vision the Immortal possess is what universes are built of. Not safety. Not security. Not the need to be liked, or agreed with. But the need to be free. The need to be alive, in the dream. 

We cannot live part-time. Yet we do. Perhaps that is more impressive than the Immortal’s transcendence. A little more risk, please. A little more courage, your highness. A little more passion, your grace. I speak for us all. For even the Immortals have a secret that withers, and my dream is to enter theirs. 

– This is Life in the Leap 


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