Ruins in a Memory

Amorella on the inside. This ancient overgrown stage (early 1900’s) is located in a suburb north of Columbus and south of Westerville, named Minerva Park. This ruin rests down the hill just to the east of the south lake on Minerva Lake Road. Orndorff antiquated the photo for memories’ sake. During the ages of seven through twelve this became imaginary classical Greek or Italian territory and he was the boy explorer. The above is the nonfiction.

I have trouble distinguishing between nonfiction and fiction when it comes to subjective reality. A vivid dream remembered is nonfiction, yet because dreams are not usually sharable and transferable, they are generally accepted as fiction by others because they are not observed by anyone but the dreamer. No one can confirm another’s dream although evidence can be shown as to whether the person is in a dream state of mind or not.

Dreams are not real, orndorff.

I wholeheartedly agree.

The fiction in this posting has to do with a person’s sense of self. Individuals don’t always know who they are.

I know who and what I am to an extent. Otherwise, I am as good as fiction. At one time I considered myself seven percent real and ninety-three percent fiction, that is the imagination of how I see myself, and even as how others see me as fiction. I created myself as I matured. I still create myself unconsciously as well as consciously. If someone were to say, “Who are you, orndorff?” I would answer, “And, who are you to ask me?”

Well, out of politeness I probably wouldn’t say that outright, but that would most likely be my thought of the moment. What comes to mind fairly readily as a response though is, “I am the seven percent solution, Mr. Holmes was supposedly addicted to.” But then, I am returning to the gallows humor Amorella spoke of yesterday.

It depends on circumstance. Say, for instance, that one recently dead was laid out and an Angel came by. It seems to me that the remaining person’s consciousness would suddenly realize it was less than what was thought as it was in direct comparison with a Platonic-like Reality. It seems to me that an Angel would be more Real than the entire universe. That’s the way I see it.

Agnostic that I am, I like to think that if an Angel really existed it could hold the universe on HerOrHis finger, if SheOrHe had a finger. What use would a finger or hand be when the CreationBeyondTheUniverse had nothing to grasp? The whole concept is beyond human reason, but people try to reason it out anyway. Real Angels should be larger than life, literally. That would be really humorous. What a joke. Talk about a stretch. If I had thought about it or Amorella had thought it up I would have used it in one of the books, you know, just for the hell of it.

Wouldn’t you be frightened of a real Angel?

I would be apprehensive because I wouldn’t know whether it was real or imagination and if it were a good Angel or bad one. When we were reading selections of Paradise Lost in class I would sometimes ask students how they would know if an Angel was sitting in the room? I would also bring this up when going over William Blake because when Blake saw an angel in the room he drew it on canvas, at least I think it was canvas.

This reminds me of another assignment. “Draw something that has no straight or curved lines.” Some would draw a dot but it would like a period, which we see as round. That’s how I like to think of metaphysical things – no straight or curved lines. Very funny.

Besides, how can there be straight lines if the universe is curved like Einstein said it was? People say they know what is real and what isn’t, but deep down I think the agnostic in them comes out and says, ‘I really don’t know, I have my doubts’. To say this outloud might cause people to think you are crazy. So, people keep it to themselves. Which shows that if there really is a Creator, SheanHe has to have a sense of humor. That’s what I think. I don’t really know, of course. You can think what you want.

To respond to your question, Amorella, I don’t know whether I would be frightened or not of a real Angel, because I would not know what to expect next. I think I would no longer have a sense of Free Will. My humanity would be sucked away In-the-Moment. What would you, Amorella, think of a real Angel since you are nothing but a reasoning imagination?

Let me rephrase that, please. I am sorry, I do not have the words to express this type of question. I am sorry I thought it. Thoughts pop out of nowhere or out of the unconscious I guess. I do feel bad here but I have to let it go, to dismiss the thought and move on. I have to forgive myself for having had the thought and for bringing it to an expressive state in this context.

Is this a true statement? ‘You think I left you just now.’

Yes. I was impolite and not really truthful, Amorella, because I do not know you are nothing but imagination. That is an assumption. In my mind you are real enough to have written three books I legally put my name to. It hurts the ego to think on this sort of subject. Humility grows, pride withers, and I become increasingly uncomfortable in the existential predicament. I have no choice but to let it go so I can move on with my humanity.

Inwardly, you smile.

That’s because I suddenly see the humor here.

Good.