As the puddles started forming, so did the worlds. The places that no one looked, the secret suspense of a caldisack or a water drain. There were entry points everywhere, and roaming eyes passed again and again. You would have to know exactly what you were looking for. Waiting for the perfect moment to jump in and tap in to the ultimate experience. It took time and knowledge, knowing the right truths and keeping that steel trap of a mind open and aching for magic. Each place was unique, an emphasis of thought, they were mirrors of the mind in the most literal of the sense. Once you were in, the colours stacked and your sanity was tested. Each dark, frail piece of yourself was drawn out and examined, like a perfect artifact that was flipped this way and that.
I watched each day for these places, afraid that if I used what I knew, I would end up in the unlimited. Reality as I had claimed to know and all the fuses that kept my mind in check, would be blown. I wondered if I would ever be able to adapt again if I made it out one of those chambers of sight. I couldn’t turn off the curiosity or unlearn what I had learned. It came in a dream, as most of my valuable knowledge did. Creeping up on the soft pastels of everyday life, it crushed my ordinary and presented itself in the most fragrant of displays. I woke up aware and the dream would not fade, it popped into the shine of sunlight on a football field after the rain. Calling me to it, as though it had a life of it’s own. A desire to teach me, to pour into me and flesh out those places that I had numbed with daily routine.
Eventually, I started to listen. I dipped a toe into black water by a curb. Felt the unfathomable depth and how the water crawled through my boot to saturate my skin with difference. This desire had become an infatuation, I could not concentrate on the most basic of tasks. My insides turmoiled and I knew that the silence would not remain, not when an outlet existed. A simple reflection so pure and true that it would strip me down to a core raw and rippling with energy. I wouldn’t be able to pretend after that, to make myself a passenger in this life and it’s preordained path. Not when freedom reined in a garden pool.