Psyche’s
voice rose through the background noise of my dreams. She was addressing me again. “And another thing,” she began, “we also
exist within the margins and crevices, the borderlands and the landscapes of
other dimensions. You don’t have to
squeeze the fullness of your existence into such small quarters.”
“I am not
telling you to seek salvation or to throw the clock out the window so that you
can see time fly. Not that old
joke. You see, I want to fly. And I don’t care whether time flies with me. In fact, I know that time cannot go where I
do. It does not exist here.”
“But time is
such a strange element in your life. It
should have a place on the periodic table as every other element that is
considered essential and identifiable.
It intercepts you at various stages along the way. It plays a bewitching fiddle to your
life’s dance.”
“Hermes also
intercepts you through time and space, covering tremendous distances. If time is the elaborate work then he is the
shuttle in the weave. Only someone as
mercurial as Hermes could come back from all the intersections to bring word to
the surface world of consciousness. But
I know he must travel so much distance.
And it sometimes seems as if all must be taken from him in order to
communicate in your stripped down model of reality that “they” have agreed
upon.”
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