I had woken up in my little room in my grandparents’ big, yellow house in the woods. I was soaked in fear sweat. It was still dark and I had just had a bad dream. I wanted the comfort of my mommy, so I slipped my tiny legs over the edge of my big boy bed and stretched until my toes brushed the cold hardwood floor below. I dropped and then scampered into my mom’s room next door, my feet making soft, scuffling noises as I went. Using a nearby chair, I clambered up and into my mom’s enormous bed. It was summer in the Midwest, and the nights were hot. My mom was sleeping naked above the sheets, flat on her back. Her long, blonde hair spread out across her pillow in a cascading fan that was almost blue in the predawn light. She was barely in her 20s, full of soft, round youth. I gazed at her round, sleeping face, so peaceful and angelic, and all fear was brushed aside and instantly forgotten. I sat down, tucking my legs under me, and stared at her for a long time. I studied her long, yellow eyelashes, the curve of her eyebrows that swooped gracefully across her wide forehead like the antennae of a butterfly, her mouth open and expelling the deep, slow, rhythmic breath of sleep.
As I sat there, I became aware of a gradual lightening of the room. A wide window was set in the eastern wall of her room. Because the summer air was warm, the curtains were drawn back and the sashes ajar to let in a breeze. Just outside the window, a short strip of lawn separating the house from a narrow dirt road could be seen. And, beyond that, a dense wood of deciduous trees.
As I gazed through the window, curious as to the source of the growing light, the forest began to darken as the sky behind the trees grew steadily lighter. Then, slowly, magically, beams and streaks of golden light began to emanate through the interstices between tree trunks. Above the forest, the sky gradually turned pale blue, then pink, then orange. The trees were glowing green now and the room was alight with a golden-green aura. This was the first time I had ever seen the sun rise. I was amazed and awestruck.
I had never seen anything so wonderful, so beautiful, so pure. My head and my heart ached with some kind of feeling that I couldn’t comprehend. The entire universe opened up within my mind, blooming and exploding—a flower of psychic fire. It was as if I were being born, sliding forth from the womb of the Cosmos. It was as if the Hand of God was reaching through those radiant shafts of dawn light with intangible fingers, gently piercing my watering eyes, opening the Door of Infinite Possibility within my brain. It was the kind of feeling so profound that it could shake a person all the way down to the deepest cellars of their soul. This singular, perfect, brand-new moment was too big, too large, and too full of muchness to be held within a single mind, much less that of a toddler.
A new kind of fear filled my heart, one I had never felt before, one I could not understand, and one that I have rarely felt since. Terrified and awestruck, I couldn’t be alone; I had to wake up my mommy. As I reached down to shake her awake, I caught the light spilling over her reposed form with glowing tendrils of gold and red and green, touching the soft downy hairs that covered her arms and face, filling them with light. And, just like that, she was alight and shimmering with a golden radiance. I held her in my eyes, enraptured and in love with this vision of my mother as a golden goddess, dazzling and transcendent. I was simply overwhelmed. Just like with the rising sun, I couldn’t behold or comprehend such profound beauty and purity and I began to cry.
My mom slowly rose up into consciousness and it was like watching a diver swim up to break the surface of a still pond. Slowly, her face began to move with a thousand tiny, almost imperceptible, tremors. Like the dawn sky, her face gradually changed color, steadily growing pink and flush. Her eyelids quivered and her eyelashes fluttered. Sleepily, she looked at me, her eyes hooded, filled with confusion and the broken remnants of unknowable dreams.
"What’s up, Doc?" She murmured.
"M-Mommy!" I said, my voice strained through wracking sobs, pointing out the window. I wanted to tell her how amazing and awesome the dawn was. I wanted to tell her that I have experienced a perfect Unity with All There Is and that I have felt the Love of the Universe fill up the whole of my being. But I was only three. I didn’t really understand what was happening, and if I did, I didn’t have the vocabulary to explain.
"The sun’s coming out!" I managed.
Confused, she followed my gaze and the aim of my tiny, chubby finger to where the sun was just now appearing above the tree-tops, an enormous cosmic ball of orange-colored chocolate melting into the bright green leaves, which were burning from the inside with viridian light.
"It’s. So. Beautiful," I whispered, my throat aching and choked with tears.
My mom laughed. She had a special laugh that she saved for me for when I was being especially precocious. It was comforting. It eased the fear and ache and hurt of the Muchness. She sat up next to me, putting one slender arm around my shoulders, so that we could look out at the sky together.
“Yeah, I suppose it is.”
We sat like that until the sun rose completely up and above the forest, our eyes hurting from staring. When the dawn was completely and properly over, she lay back down on her back with a yawn.
"Come here, kiddo." She murmured, drowsily. "Let’s go back to sleep."
I nodded and curled up in the warm, comforting space between her ribcage and an outstretched arm. She was still afire with the light streaming through the open window, but now that the sun was up where I was used to seeing it, the terrible profundity of its light was mostly gone. Birds were beginning to raise a nattering, chirping chorus outside and a normal, uneventful day was beginning. My mom slowly ceased to be a brilliant, empyrean entity, and reverted back to being just my mommy and I was relieved. I closed my eyes and let myself be soothed by her familiar scents of soap, summer sweat, and cigarette smoke.
As I lay there, I resolved to always remember this moment. Something in me said that this experience was Important, perhaps something that happens perhaps once or twice in a lifetime. This same intuition told me that I may need this moment as a life raft later as I moved on through my life. And it also told me that, when I was old enough, I might understand why this moment made me hurt and happy and terrified and amazed and sad all at the same time.
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I had woken up in my little room in my grandparents’ big, yellow house in the woods. I was soaked in fear sweat. It was still dark and I had just had a bad dream. I wanted the comfort of my mommy, so I slipped my tiny legs over the edge of my big boy bed and stretched until my toes brushed the cold hardwood floor below.
I dropped and then scampered into my mom’s room next door, my feet making soft, scuffling noises as I went. Using a nearby chair, I clambered up and into my mom’s enormous bed. It was summer in the Midwest, and the nights were hot. My mom was sleeping naked above the sheets, flat on her back. Her long, blonde hair spread out across her pillow in a cascading fan that was almost blue in the predawn light. She was barely in her 20s, full of soft, round youth. I gazed at her round, sleeping face, peaceful and seraphic, and all fear was brushed aside and instantly forgotten. I sat down, tucking my legs under me, and stared at her for a long time. I studied her long, yellow eyelashes, the curve of her eyebrows that swooped gracefully across her wide forehead like the antennae of a butterfly, her mouth open and expelling the deep, slow, rhythmic breath of sleep.
As I sat there, I became aware of a gradual lightening of the room. A wide window was set in the eastern wall of her room. Because the summer air was warm, the curtains were drawn back and the sashes ajar to let in a breeze. Just outside the window, a short strip of lawn separating the house from a narrow dirt road could be seen. And, beyond that, a dense wood of deciduous trees.
As I gazed through the window, curious as to the source of the growing light, the forest began to darken as the sky behind the trees grew steadily lighter. Then, slowly, magically, beams and streaks of golden light began to emanate through the interstices between tree trunks. Above the forest, the sky gradually turned pale blue, then pink, then orange. The trees were glowing green now and the room was alight with a golden-green aura. This was the first time I had ever seen the sun rise. I was amazed and awestruck.
I had never seen anything so wonderful, so beautiful, so pure. My head and my heart ached with some kind of feeling that I couldn’t comprehend. The entire universe opened up within my mind, blooming and exploding—a flower of psychic fire. It was as if I were being born, sliding forth from the womb of the Cosmos. It was as if the Hand of God was reaching through those radiant shafts of dawn light with intangible fingers, gently piercing my watering eyes, opening the Door of Infinite Possibility within my brain. It was the kind of feeling so profound that it could shake a person all the way down to the deepest cellars of their soul. This singular, perfect, brand-new moment was too big, too large, and too full of muchness to be held within a single mind, much less that of a toddler.
A new kind of fear filled my heart, one I had never felt before, one I could not understand, and one that I have rarely felt since. Terrified and awestruck, I couldn’t be alone; I had to wake up my mommy. As I reached down to shake her awake, I caught the light spilling over her reposed form with glowing tendrils of gold and red and green, touching the soft downy hairs that covered her arms and face, filling them with light. And, just like that, she was alight and shimmering with a golden radiance. I held her in my eyes, enraptured and in love with this vision of my mother as a golden goddess, dazzling and transcendent. I was simply overwhelmed. Just like with the rising sun, I couldn’t behold or comprehend such profound beauty and purity and I began to cry.
My mom slowly rose up into consciousness and it was like watching a diver swim up to break the surface of a still pond. Slowly, her face began to move with a thousand tiny, almost imperceptible, tremors. Like the dawn sky, her face gradually changed color, steadily growing pink and flush. Her eyelids quivered and her eyelashes fluttered. Sleepily, she looked at me, her eyes hooded, filled with confusion and the broken remnants of unknowable dreams.
"What’s up, Doc?" She murmured.
"M-Mommy!" I said, my voice strained through wracking sobs, pointing out the window. I wanted to tell her how amazing and awesome the dawn was. I wanted to tell her that I have experienced a perfect Unity with All There Is and that I have felt the Love of the Universe fill up the whole of my being. But I was only three. I didn’t really understand what was happening, and if I did, I didn’t have the vocabulary to explain.
"The sun’s coming out!" I managed.
Confused, she followed my gaze and the aim of my tiny, chubby finger to where the sun was just now appearing above the tree-tops, an enormous cosmic ball of orange-colored chocolate melting into the bright green leaves, which were burning from the inside with viridian light.
"It’s. So. Beautiful," I whispered, my throat aching and choked with tears.
My mom laughed. She had a special laugh that she saved for me for when I was being especially precocious. It was comforting. It eased the fear and ache and hurt of the Muchness. She sat up next to me, putting one slender arm around my shoulders, so that we could look out at the sky together.
“Yeah, I suppose it is.”
We sat like that until the sun rose completely up and above the forest, our eyes hurting from staring. When the dawn was completely and properly over, she lay back down on her back with a yawn.
"Come here, kiddo." She murmured, drowsily. "Let’s go back to sleep."
I nodded and curled up in the warm, comforting space between her ribcage and an outstretched arm. She was still afire with the light streaming through the open window, but now that the sun was up where I was used to seeing it, the terrible profundity of its light was mostly gone. Birds were beginning to raise a nattering, chirping chorus outside and a normal, uneventful day was beginning. My mom slowly ceased to be a brilliant, empyrean entity, and reverted back to being just my mommy and I was relieved. I closed my eyes and let myself be soothed by her familiar scents of soap, summer sweat, and cigarette smoke.
As I lay there, I resolved to always remember this moment. Something in me said that this experience was Important, perhaps something that happens perhaps once or twice in a lifetime. This same intuition told me that I may need this moment as a life raft later as I moved on through my life. And it also told me that, when I was old enough, I might understand why this moment made me hurt and happy and terrified and amazed and sad all at the same time.
The sun is burning too brightly, and I’m standing on the edge of a vast, barren field littered with garbage and bones. In the distance stand weird buildings of unknown and sinister industrial purposes. White and gray and Brutalist, they shimmer in the heat haze rising from the field.
I can almost make out a blurry figure standing at the far edge of the field, small in the distance and made of shadow and noise. I squint to try to make out a hint of detail, but squinting only makes them waver in the sickly shimmering air. A low, nearly inaudible rumble emanates from them that I can hear from even far away; a hideous growl of warning.
I’m terrified. But I must approach them. Despite their terrible presence, I need to know.
I stumble across the treacherous field. The figure stands there inert, wavering in the heat. I can feel their eyes on me, full of quiet, powerful menace. They sound off with a roar that bends and ripples the air and lifts dirt from the ground. It nearly knocks me over.
My legs turn liquid in terror. But still I lurch forward. I need to know. I need to see.
Sweating, eyes aching from straining in the bright, wavering air, I finally come to stand before them. And even standing nose-to-nose, I can’t quite make out their face as it shifts and melts and buzzes and blurs, like an analog television switched between stations, picking up phantom images and sounds from some unfathomable dimension that exists only in the static.
They are fury. They are rage. They are tooth and claw, hammer and club, knife and fire. They are the urge to survive above all else.
They speak. Their voice is a cacophony of buzzing saws, howls of rage, and the methodical drumbeat of entropy.
“In the end,” they say. “I will devour everything you love.”
I drop to my knees in supplication. Tears and snot running down my face. I know they speak the truth. All is lost just so that I might live.
And what would I be without them? Who else will protect me from all the horrible, dreadful things out there, beyond the field?
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