Norwegian Dreamworks 6
March 10th, 2015
At time, between dusk and dark, i think of the smallness of my life. My hut is tiny, i have to bend to go through the door. It barely has enough floor to accommodate two people – all mattress, no space for anything else. My needs are few, scattered on a little shelf – tea, sugar, strawberry jam, coffee, some bread, herring, a bottle of sauce and some whisky. On a child size bed, above and behind my sleeping pillow, a backpack and what can find its place on it – a book, some cds, few pieces of clothing and vitamins. My head lies close to the concrete part of the wall, my body, in a sleeping bag, feels the air coming through the door gap formed by the cable going under it.
I need nothing much more. My life is small. I think and i watch the sky, the mountains and the sea surrounding the city. I hear its distant drone. The silence and the emptiness. As if there’s nothing else, but dreams. As if the smallness of my life makes me live in dreams. Closed by the groundless abyss and infinite heavens – my mind has nowhere else to go, but dreamworlds.
And so my life – even to the point where i don’t know if i’m dreaming, i become a dreamt life. And as in a dream, so in life, i am capable of extremely chancy things. Tending to be someone first and then somebody else in a matter of milliseconds.
As a creature of no identity, just the one of being between abyss and infinity, and so infinitesimal, i have no control of my dream. The atheistic randomness of it lets me understand what is meant by the two most used characteristics of a god: allpowerfull and allkind – almighty and benevolent, otherwords.
For all power is the one that is not limited – the power of creating or destroying anything at anymoment, out of groundless abyss, up to infinite heavens. A true dream uninterrupted by smallness of life.
Allkindness is loving everything at all moments – undifferentiated, for the good, the bad and the ugly – a pure dream escaped from the smallness of life.
And so i think, whether the smallness of my life is a definite argument against the existence of god. For if there is life, however insignificant, there is a limit (to and of power and love) – a moment of waking up. But since i live and am as the one who is dreamt – being kind and violent at the same time – breaking the hearts that i love most kindly, i wonder whether being an atheist is, in a somewhat inexplicable way, being a god.
Yet, all of this is false. The groundless abyss forbids one to dream truly, and infinite heavens – to dream purely: by simply circumventing the need for belief – there’s no need to believe in what one dreams (or how one dreams) – all of power, all of kindess is just given for free and taken for granted in the easiness of a split second.
You can’t believe in what you dream, for there is no need of verification of any kind (which is the source of belief) in a chaotic life of a dream or a dream of a life, which, by being random and chaotic, is most transparent, and thus blind, in a subverted sense of this concept – nothing limits your visions.
Dreams, if correctly analyzed, are the source of disbelief – when one has dreamt, one has become accustomed to smile at belief. And so neither the truth of life, which is smallness, nor the universe of dreams, which is unbelievable, tends godwards.
And so one is rightly and truly between groundless abyss and infinite heavens, crying and laughing as a mad god – writing a teology about its unbelievable inexistence.
As lovable and as powerless as a drunk sailor, lost in a rubber boat, floating on a swimming pool.
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