The days and moments cascade on into a now of futures.  I thought I had a past but it really it was a series of binary events, as soon as I enter the unified field of quantum, or complete non binary reality, I pop out of existence and when even a subtle charge occurs to me I pop back in.  This non dual state correlates with a state of meditation, which is a state of mental balance that is so even and accurately balanced that the two sides of the brain cancel each other out yet there remains a sense of self.  Popping back, is a state where I am mentally out of balance and subsequently have a charge or judgment that brings energy into material density and hence into my material reality.  But where do I arrive?

Do I arrive in this moment with a past or is that a coded series of false memories.  I do not trust the appearance of things.  I look deeper and in this search I assemble in the appearance of a woman, sensual and emotional because that is the nature of the female.  Sharply intelligent because that is my coding.  The Celtic hierarchy of values (perhaps genetically mediated) also eats into my chemistry and subsequent behavior and makes me fiercely loyal and emotionally guarded.  I am insane and mentally balanced, and in a position to choose my next step.

I wonder if   anyone could possibly understand?  What I have seen is the hand of creation as it writes my story and in my work I have seen that pen write the lives of other actors.

The director shouts action, at first we jump too full of our own importance to act competently.  As we evolve we get to act with style and aplomb and perhaps each according to his vocation gets to direct.  The hand that writes me is compassion, and the sorrows I encounter are the complement to the love I give.  In this world where black and white thinking is the norm I see compassion, mercy and disorganised energy and my heart can only love.  Disorder is really only a level of order I do not yet understand or love.

I had a dream.  I was in an office. It was like a lawyers office, lined with leather books.  There was a presence in the room though I could not actually see anyone.  I said, “Who are you?”
“I am God.”
“What are you doing in my dream?”
“I am the director, writer and audience.”
“And I then am the actor?  How will this play go?”
“As the audience I like to surprise myself, but as the director I do like a happy ending.”

All parts and objects in a dream are the dreamer.