Dreams and Nightmares Chase the Setting Sun Over the Horizon
by David Pike

1. The Nightmare
On our way to the downtown library we are careful to stay on the straight lined gridlock patterned sidewalks to avoid being killed by monolithic vehicles soaring past us at too close a distance. The vehicles spew forth pollutants into our faces, and we gasp and choke on the poisoned air we regret to breathe, while inside their luxurious cabs they chat on cell phones, absorbing filtered air-conditioned comfort, residing in absolute ignorance of the profanity they commit.

We slice our bare feet on broken glass and shattered dreams, wearing thin our ravaged skin on the life suffocation materials named concrete and asphalt, blistering hot today in this treeless world where the sun-miracle-source of life has become our greatest threat. Without any trees to breathe burning carbons or shade our perspiring bodies we suffer under the emerging dangers of ultra violet rays, radiating downward into our maladapted skin without a leaf to filter out its sting. Under this blanket of meticulously poured life-suffocation, the living brown earth waits patiently for a day when a crack emerges and water seeps in to find a dormant seed seeking light. Not today, today the earth burns along with us.

The concrete asphalt sidewalk wreaks fuming heat waves into our soft-tissue lungs; bleeds sticky congealing tar into the bleeding wounds of our feet, and it stains our soles with poison. Asphalt congealing tar leaches into the groundwater we drink; and it also stains our souls with poison. Our skin smolders wet and we wipe sweat from our brow, a droplet of living water sizzles away before reaching the suffocated earth buried somewhere beneath our blistered feet. Beneath the awning of a storefront we find a rare patch of shade providing refuge from a scorching day, and we sit down to rest our weary bones. A policeman takes notice.

"You can't rest here; this is a no loitering area."

"But we are tired, we just need to sit and rest."

"If you are going to cause trouble, I need to ask for your I.D."

"We don't have any I.D."

"What are your names and addresses?"

"We don't have names or addresses."

"You are under arrest for anonymity; you'll have to come with me to be registered."

2. The Dream
On our way to the downtown library we wander along forest trails surrounded by luscious greenery and flowering flora of impossible intricacy. We gaze with eyes open upon infinite mystery contained by a rushing stream cascading over tremendous boulders of ancient glacial origins. Carpets of moss grace every dampened living surface, glowing bright lime-green in filtered rays of soft sunlight inflowing between branches of cedar, fir, maple, birch; touching our skin so gently after a journey of millions of miles from a flaming hydrogen star.

We carry on endless conversations with creatures around us, chattering with birds and bantering with squirrels for the meaning of life. As we drift down the path, a family of curious raccoons step off the trail we share to allow our passage, and soon after a deer with fawn repeats the courtesy. Cool clean breezes carry myriads of fragrances, breathing deeper we fill our bodies with the subtle essence of sustenance. Blissfully overwhelmed by changing, moving, living, and breathing, we become aware of waves, tides, cycles and seasons of profound intricacy detailing beauty.

High overhead a spiraling hawk cries with the same piercing sound heard for millions of years, and our receptive spines tingle with recognition and resonation. Time stops still, water streaming ceases to flow, trees ageless, forest timeless. Our bodies evaporate and our souls expand to encompass and join the living universe. Far above the hawk cries again and all resumes a flowing course. Water streams again downward in a conversation with gravity, and we join in with the rhythmic beat of our footsteps on the mossy trail. A friend approaches walking back up the hill towards home.

"It's a beautiful day today; people are downtown playing music."

"That sounds great! We will find a place to rest and listen."

"I had better get home to the garden, I'm hungry!"

"Be sure to watch for the deer and raccoons we passed on the way down."

3. The Setting Sun
We have watched forever as the falling sun vanishes over the edge of the Earth to leave us in darkness, but we are not lost. Our wisdom brings us hope of dawn to come; the dark night sky reveals unsolvable riddles beaming into our eyes as pinpoints of ancient starlight. When we witness eternity in gazing upward; the deepest realm of our soul accepts and understands the message being spoken, take faith in this vast universe of existence upon a moistened spec of dust orbiting a single star among countless trillions. Space and time beyond the limits of our imaginations; viewed from the outside, our entire universe may be but another life filled water droplet glinting in the bright light of a place we cannot speculate.

As a moth is guided to the light, we chase and follow the pearl of wisdom to the horizon. We shield our eyes from its brilliance so as not to burn away in the rays of its bliss, but someday we all are touched by flames of its corona, and like the moth in a candle we are changed into ash and spirit. Into the ocean we flow, rejoining once again the eternal question, if only a moment or for an eternity, until again we are drawn up into the clouds to fall into existence as a drop of rain, or maybe a snowflake.

Falling away, drifting down, burning up, and changing form, metamorphisms. Nothing is still; every atom contains within a universe of complexity beyond thought, more intricate than our imaginations can perceive. Tiny particulates are actually galaxies; nebulae forms within an eyes iris parallel dreams of exploding supernovae. Swirling diatoms transform galaxies in a droplet of water, in every moment; in chaos and stillness, life and death touch all we can believe.

"In what do we believe?"

"We believe in magic and infinity."

"Why is that important?"

"Because nothing ends, and nothing is still; we are all changing, all the time."

4. The Horizon
Dawn breaks on the horizon and light pours into every chlorophyll dependent life form surface; catalyzing energy into food. We stretch outward to find the light, following every instant beam with grasping branches and upturned palms, raised in anticipation of energy and prayer. Who can discern the future of change? Our seasons dance on in perpetual changing rhythm, and we try to match our prayers to the light, following the course of the sun across the deep blue sky mirroring our souls, and we wonder; maybe too often do we wonder.

Under what strain can we continue with life? Where do we find faith in hope in a world of pain under falling skies? Blue turns to red in burning clouds full of oil and dust, churning reactors grind the gears of our despair, our outstretches palms collect a layer of poison soot, un-washable stains worsened under faucet water traced with metal and hatred. Fences of blood criss-cross lands of ancient green, forests become commodity, struggle; accepted.

Blame is a useless game and fear is unworthy, hate is powerless and sadness leads only to strife and misery. Our questions flicker out on the horizon as the sunlight fades, our hands now washed clean by rain, our worries flutter away in the awe and brilliance of a color spraying sunset offering hope. Tonight we turn around again to face the East, marveling at the spectacle of our surrounding twinkling universe, awaiting our star rising over the mountains, full of faith in the dance of infinity.

"Will we survive our own curse?"

"Only if we quit asking and start believing."

"When no more questions can be asked, then what can we believe?"

"Believe in everything."

David Pike recently graduated from Fairhaven College with a concentration titled "Writing in Cultural Ecology."