A man once accidentally snorted a seed while blowing on a dandelion puffball. That night for the first time in a really long time, he slept peacefully. Soon, deep dreamless slumber became a routine for him. As the day would end and the darkness descended, he would plunge into an abyss of compelling sleep. With his former history of fitful dozing at nighttime filled with dreams which kept him up until dawn, the man initially felt relief with this quiet uninterrupted slumbering however this dreamlessness soon turned into an undefinable sort of dullness.
Gradually, monotony set in and he started to lose interest in the things he once took joy in. A mild but nagging ache, the source of which he couldn’t quite fathom, began to bother. Months passed and the pain intensified. In his busyness, he first ignored it until one day when he couldn’t bear it any longer, he went to see the old wise man who lived under a mysterious tree which bore fruits throughout the year. After taking a long contemplative look at the man, the old wise man offered him a fruit from the tree and asked him to eat it before going to bed.
That night the man had a disturbing vision. A dandelion haze was growing in his heart. His dreams and wishes were trapped in the tiny seeds of the flimsy white globe and they were begging to be released from the safety and sanguinity of his dreamless sleep. Unable to free themselves, they were crying in despair. ‘Beautiful lucid dreams and sweat-breaking nightmares are the necessary components which make the journey of our lives interesting.’ Said the old wise man with the same calm remoteness with which he had spoken to the man during the day. ‘Sure, dreamless sleep is nice and quite necessary sometimes but the constant absence of it can also render us lifeless with its yearning. The source of your suffering lies in your inability to dream.’
With these words the voice of the wiseman faded out in the distance and the man woke up with faint traces of sweet-sour tasting saliva in his mouth. The taste was puzzling yet oddly comforting to him. The pith of the fruit he ate last night was on the dish on his nightstand.
Art: Kate Herbert Designs