Science of the Disbeliever

I’m not completely sure of what I’m going to write in this post. My mind is both here and not here. Present and distant at the same time. I can feel reality and fiction pressing against me, forcing itself against my temples, weighting itself against my heart. I can hear my son crying as he struggles against sleep. I can hear my friend’s paintbrush moving softly against wood. I can hear the hum of the fridge and the birds in the trees and the faint sizzle of the coffee pot element. But, behind and in front and vague and clear stands the images of my mind.

I see the world of Anne Rice stalking the corridors of my imagination, the vampire Louis intent on his mortality. I can see the heavy fronds of Calypso, with Kira darting in between the starlit trees. I can taste the fumes and desperation and despair of a future earth, walk beside a man I have yet to know.

It is like, in this moment, I see two worlds. I see the string theory come to life, the string theory of the written word. In this moment, anything is possible. An angel could be standing over my son, soft words barely audible as his ethereal light dusts the little form. A pixie could be hiding in my water heater, devilish eyes tweaking the pipe, freezing me out. A lone hunter could be asleep in the room right next to mine, his mind wandering those far-away terraces of sleep and dreams. Anything is possible, in this moment.

Reality is there. My son is sick. My bills need to be paid. My house is cold. My coffee is sweet. But everything glistens, shimmers almost with this preternatural awareness. Nothing is what it seems. Everything is touching nothing, and everything is touching something. It perfumes the air and fogs my senses.

In this moment, I feel the truth of my passion. I see the path of my desire. I am the scientist, bringing to life the multitude of universes that our world touches. I am the theorist that throws cation to the wind. My mind is its own, and my fingers type of their own accord. In this moment, I am.

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About S. G. Ricketts

I am a dreamer. This page holds all of the dreams and desires and hopes and wishes of the first of my two dreams: to share my imagination with the world. For those of you who have read a book or written a book, these stories are not merely words on a page. They are living, breathing creatures, worlds so compellingly real that you can smell the sweat and feel the rain. This is what I want to share ...with all of you. Yes, becoming rich and famous would be fabulous. I won't deny that. However, it would be so much more satisfying to see my book in the hands of someone on the bus, hear my book talked about at a restaurant, see a cluster of fan-art. I want to inspire the mind to imagine different worlds and different situations. If I can achieve that, I will have achieved my dream.

Posted on March 14, 2010, in Musing, writing and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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