The Book

The strain of the radiator wreaked havoc on my pacificity, bruising the gentle slumber of my dulled senses. As I awoke from my mid-afternoon delirium, I discovered that beneath my head was an uncomfortably hard book, much to hefty to be read. I noxiously gazed at the cover. It was worn and tattered. And upon furthor examination, I noticed that its introductory pages were nearly shattered, corroded into a see-through viniette of the author's ephemeral thoughts.
Its deceptive overusage was most probably the result of the sheer aging effects of time, I thought, reminding myself of my own aging. The title read "The Brain: and it's coronation of the mind."
This immediately lifted my intrigue to the point of active perusal. I had always been interested in the brain and its functions, believing that both the physical answers to ourselves, and metaphysical philosophical and spiritual answers to be contained in this organ. Then, I read three words that I can never forget -
"You are dreaming."
I stopped. Just then, I pondered the infinite realm of dreams, which coincided with the multitudinous possibilities of the real world plus our inner world, and decided that yes, that was a real possibility, that perhaps I was dreaming.
I read on about the physical and biological components of the brain, and how these affected our interpretation of reality, which is only energy wavelengths and tiny particles of matter. Yet, we perceive these energy differentials wholistically, and determine them to be composites of reality.
And then, there was a break in the continuity, under which was a warning: "Those choosing to continue on this voyage should be cautioned, because for the rest of your lives, your senses will be acutely dependent on the metaphysical ramifications of cosmic energy, in essence a generation of a new reality."
I was perplexed. I stopped reading, placing the book on my lap, and sighed. Was I ready to give this up, and live in a world wholly out of my control? I finally decided to keep reading, those printed words already burrowing themselves into my furrowed brow.
I turned the page, and a diluge of light erupted from the crease. My eyesight was vaporized. My entire body grew numb, as I had lost all proprioception of my corporeal being. I could not taste, smell, or hear anything. I didn't see white, taste and smell blandness, or hear murmuring. I experienced nothing except static noise. The totality of my being was ripped from without myself.
How did I know I existed, you may ask. It was strange, because the static sound I heard fluctuated in intensity, in and out of the audible frequency. My mind was still intact, perhaps resesitated by this tremor of noises. And so I could ponder. This ignited a diseased wrecklessness of my mind, hurrying to and fro along the axis of reality, jutting in and out of awareness.
How I reveled in this new-found freedom, shedding physical and social dimensional contraints! I was flying, the breeze of thoughts slapping wildly against my mind.
And then, at last my sight emerged, hazy at first, but steadily growing in clarity and definition. I could make out what seemed like words against my horizon. I felt myself drifting towards them. Each then rushed toward me, collapsing against my face in rapid succession: "The" "Journey" "Is" "Yours"
The last thing I remember hearing was the clasp of the book.
Ever since then, I have realized the dream.