Harold's Home The moving finger writes...

Perfecting Space-Time in my Spare-Time part 3

Reading back through all this I realize I may have portrayed my society as more utopian than it truly is. Our ways are to be seen with more contrast if you also include our ways of dealing with those that retreat from us by means of insanity. Our society finds it impossible to tolerate this. Ours is seen as the good and right way for intelligent beings to live and behave. Anyone not capable of coping with it will just have to be forced, by means of treatment, to seeing things our way. I was forced to, rather sneakily, by the premonitions which I mentioned in my previous article. At that stage I still thought it was my future self trying to speak some sense into me. This voiceless speaking turned out to be, of course, my therapeutic healers trying to speak some sense into me. If I may use an earthly (horror!) analogy: I was brainwashed, reprogrammed. The treatment is only given once.
Deviations are not again tolerated.
Retreat twice and never wake up.

We don't know if the reality will collapse if it's creator, so to speak, dies, yet it seems unlikely That it won't. I just hope, for my sake, I don't relapse. What has already happened to you I don't know. Perhaps your reality has already collapsed. Perhaps you still exist in some corner of my mind or in a universe filled with potential worlds. I don't know, and I don't really care that much one way or another. You see, it has all become theoretical to me now that I am truly rational, as I wave-communicate with my fellow beings. Not for me the dreaming of land living intelligence. Or the restrictions of your puny bodies. Imagine: not being able to form a perfect sine with your arms (or tentacles, appendages, whatever).

I am afraid my tale has seemed rather strange and one-sided. In a way the reason that I haven't included anyone else in this narrative is simple. I am writing this for t~ie very figments of my previous delusions. Yes, you are truly that! Imaginary, dreamlike.
Halcyonic, is there a word such as that? Our existences no longer coincide (collide?).
We are truly separated. I can hardly make myself remember you since the treatment was finished. How it is for you I don't know. Perhaps I just vanished. Or perhaps I gradually faded away ,till there was nothing of me left to remember me by. Or maybe, just maybe, some part of me is still with you, detached, remote. Belonging nowhere...
Delusions upon delusions are stacked.

Hypothetically.
That is the only way I can remember you. Some part of me, I hope, will always remember you. You had, grandeur, if nothing else, in your acceptance of earthly(!) living. Dream your (true) dreams, figments. Even now I am losing sight of you. I am home and have no longer any need for you. Maybe you will continue to exist. Maybe, it doesn't matter. Dream on, figments, that you, too, may see the light...

I will sign as I was known to you,

Harold.