Nighttime moves
Holy crud - I just remembered a few scraps of probably one of the most egomaniacal semi-lucid dreams I've ever had, last night, and am actually feeling in the right space to write it up.
The beginning was something along the lines of finding that I could, with great effort and in times of urgent need, force my will upon the world in little ways - minor telekinetics, pidly almost stage magic stuff that showed up in fight or flight. Things progressed over perceived time, slowly but surely increasing power at an almost infinitesimal but compounding rate, until it became reflexive to use my will rather than my physical body to move through the world. As my strength increased, so too did my perception, growing in clarity and variety over time, until I found I could sense the vibrations and bubbles of force that comprise the world directly. Manipulating these too became a skill that I carved into my essence, until I found I could move mountains and microns with equal ease, finally finding an outlet for the aesthetic sense that had been trapped by the poorly constructed physical shell I'd initially been imbued with.
At this point I was something other; my body hadn't changed much - earlier manipulations had almost melted away as my expression on the physical plane returned to an echo of it's former self, an ease of disquiet allowing me to finally live fully. At the same time, I was no longer merely physical - the whole of me simply would not fit in the space allotted. Now the part of me I felt to be my self was outside; the physical was merely a convenience; a matter of perspective that could be ignored without effort. Now I saw the greater part, endless spheres of influence intersecting as stars and galaxies swung through the heavens in an endless dance... or nearly so. The dance was slowing. Barely. Every movement seemed just a hair too sluggish. The glorious curved expressions of spin and momentum and collapse and expansion would eventually come to an end. Not soon. Not within lifetimes of any sort. Not within eons. But eventually. Existence would end.
Seeing this, against the backdrop of so much raw potential, amongst the wonderment of the cosmos, I found I could not stand it. I didn't know how things had started; as many answers as I'd found, I'd never answered that thought, but I knew that I could not allow that extinction. I plied my will to the firmament, adding spin and tension to asteroids, comets, and satellites alike. The molasses crawl of entropy began to slow around me, heat increasing year over year, century after century. I extended my grip constantly, bringing planets and stars into line, constantly adding energy along the way.
At some point, I found that I no longer thought of my physical self - surely the body wasted away from neglect, but I found no cause to notice. There no longer was any separation between intent, will, and reality - as soon as thought could form, so too would it be. Self definition became hazy - I was orchestrating the movements of galaxies at a time at the level of basic forces, with the same ease as I might once have moved a limb.
Eventually, as time stretched to it's fullest, I found that I comprised everything; my thought finally had a border, far flung as it might have been. To wind the spring, and allow existence to continue would require my attention for eternity - without input chaos would eventually absorb everything. I found contentment in this, for now my existence was fuller - in becoming the universe, I felt it in whole, felt each scrap of life as itself, and understood that the purpose of existence was for the universe to understand itself.
Then I woke up. It was dark. 12:45. I'd last seen those digits as they crossed midnight. I experienced the entirety of existence and become both a god and the universe itself in 45 minutes.
The beginning was something along the lines of finding that I could, with great effort and in times of urgent need, force my will upon the world in little ways - minor telekinetics, pidly almost stage magic stuff that showed up in fight or flight. Things progressed over perceived time, slowly but surely increasing power at an almost infinitesimal but compounding rate, until it became reflexive to use my will rather than my physical body to move through the world. As my strength increased, so too did my perception, growing in clarity and variety over time, until I found I could sense the vibrations and bubbles of force that comprise the world directly. Manipulating these too became a skill that I carved into my essence, until I found I could move mountains and microns with equal ease, finally finding an outlet for the aesthetic sense that had been trapped by the poorly constructed physical shell I'd initially been imbued with.
At this point I was something other; my body hadn't changed much - earlier manipulations had almost melted away as my expression on the physical plane returned to an echo of it's former self, an ease of disquiet allowing me to finally live fully. At the same time, I was no longer merely physical - the whole of me simply would not fit in the space allotted. Now the part of me I felt to be my self was outside; the physical was merely a convenience; a matter of perspective that could be ignored without effort. Now I saw the greater part, endless spheres of influence intersecting as stars and galaxies swung through the heavens in an endless dance... or nearly so. The dance was slowing. Barely. Every movement seemed just a hair too sluggish. The glorious curved expressions of spin and momentum and collapse and expansion would eventually come to an end. Not soon. Not within lifetimes of any sort. Not within eons. But eventually. Existence would end.
Seeing this, against the backdrop of so much raw potential, amongst the wonderment of the cosmos, I found I could not stand it. I didn't know how things had started; as many answers as I'd found, I'd never answered that thought, but I knew that I could not allow that extinction. I plied my will to the firmament, adding spin and tension to asteroids, comets, and satellites alike. The molasses crawl of entropy began to slow around me, heat increasing year over year, century after century. I extended my grip constantly, bringing planets and stars into line, constantly adding energy along the way.
At some point, I found that I no longer thought of my physical self - surely the body wasted away from neglect, but I found no cause to notice. There no longer was any separation between intent, will, and reality - as soon as thought could form, so too would it be. Self definition became hazy - I was orchestrating the movements of galaxies at a time at the level of basic forces, with the same ease as I might once have moved a limb.
Eventually, as time stretched to it's fullest, I found that I comprised everything; my thought finally had a border, far flung as it might have been. To wind the spring, and allow existence to continue would require my attention for eternity - without input chaos would eventually absorb everything. I found contentment in this, for now my existence was fuller - in becoming the universe, I felt it in whole, felt each scrap of life as itself, and understood that the purpose of existence was for the universe to understand itself.
Then I woke up. It was dark. 12:45. I'd last seen those digits as they crossed midnight. I experienced the entirety of existence and become both a god and the universe itself in 45 minutes.
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