I'm werking, and the place is dead, so I've been writing a rough draft of a fiction piece.

Here it is:

Christine dreamed herself into a different universe. In the dream, she opened her eyes.

Immediate knowing assaulted her consciousness. She grappled with it for a few moments, and when all seemed lost, scored a late submission hold for the victory. Control of her senses, and the ability to interpret their input rushed to meet her like friends and family after her wrestling match with knowledge.

Knowledge was a fierce opponent, and she knew that the more information it held, the more fiercely it would fight her. All of this is beside the point though. We want to know exactly what knowing assaulted her, and why, not the intricacies of ego destruction and belief systems.

Chris knew that she was in an alien universe, a foreign world, she was dreaming it, and it was wonderous.

Her visual cortex told her she could see a certain wavelength of light, indicating an endless field of grain refracting the golden color of a setting sun. She could see the sun setting behind an ocean of grain. The wheat, or other plant-structure, looked like a three dimensional audio-track of her favorite song. The very motion from the faintest air movements brought great crests and valleys. Everything was working perfectly.

The wheat waved to her like a beloved relative welcoming her home. She was home. Stalks trembled and bent in the slight breeze, sheparding the golden waves of light from the sun.

She had one thought for a long time: Oh my God. This is so beautiful.

Only one real word came into her mind.

Harmony.

But the thought she had wasn't exactly a word. It went farther, deeper into her brain. Her language called the feeling 'harmony,' but she knew that any language would have a word for the concept she was thinking about. It was an idea. Of perfect beauty. Of a beauty so immaculate, that one could spend eternity looking for the flaw, spend twenty million human lifetimes trying to uncover the naked ugliness it was hiding, and never find a single thing wrong with it.

She said, "Harmony."

The sun disappeared and the moon rose. The moon set and the sun rose. This rotation began to speed up to her perception, until the two celestial bodies became a godly blur in the infinite darkness beyond.

Time became malleable, but Chris did not shape it. She wished it would slow down, that the rotations the sun and moon would slow to a pace she understood, but she did not try to stop it herself.

How much time was passing in each second? Was she still asleep? Had she dreamt? What was the dream, and was it important?

Chris had no illusions about only forgetting unimportant information. If that was the case, she reasoned, her language wouldn't have had a word for forgetting. What would be the point if it was unimportant in the first place?

What was important? The blur? In the unique location of time-space she was in, differences between things became insubstantial, faint, unimportant. Then, completely insignificant before disappearing altogether.

She began to panic, though she hadn't been the least bit afraid before. Difference between herself and everything else was something she was used to holding as truth. Looking through the amalgam of energy around her, she was unable to differentiate where anything ended or began. Everything was essentially the same.

What made her special?

She couldn't think of anything, and began to scream.

Her apartment in Dallas, Texas reverberated with the sound, and when she found herself back in a reality that she recognized, she forgot the dream.

Sleep wrapped his arms around her again, shushing her over-evolved, over-achieving thinking organ. The organ that never thought about Chris. The brain began sorting things, slightly cross that Christine had panicked and woken up the lower levels of herself that needed reassurance in a chaotic universe. They were too simple. They would never understand. The brain filed the dream away in the section Chris had no access to, a place she would never see them.

There was still something fundamental, at the core of her being that the brain couldn't sort out.

Couldn't find it, and didn't know what it was. There was something, though, beyond the science that explained her. Her brain knew the science that explained most of her actions, but she continually surprised it, as she had done when she woke herself up.

Maybe it wasn't really there, this imaginary thing that kept her brain from understanding her entirely. But the brain had to admit, that there was evidence to support a theory.

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Anyway, I haven't proofread that story, and I just wrote it. Keep in mind the fact that I'm at work.

I apologize for my shittiness.

Fuck.


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This is the second draft, but I'm not going to update what I wrote at work. Meaning the stuff after the story and before this paragraph. It's there, and I'm going to leave this here when I do a third draft. If you've read the story in it's entirety before but not read this... try reading it again, I added a whole paragraph!

I'm gonna go do something else for now.