A Story by AshMoses

An existential inquiry into the nature of consciousness, seeking, understanding, and ignorance.


 A star is a man is a star is a man. A star, you see… it truly is a man. More than a man, even. A star is a person. Its heat and plenty are its maw: like all things that are here, it must consume; fight. It does not have eyes like you or me, but possesses sight, still, as a rock can see the person who kicks it and the ground on which it sits. The star must see, or else it would be doomed to fall out of existence. All things must see in order to maintain themselves. Imagine it: what if a star or a person stopped seeing? Without an image of creation to hold in their mind; without something to project into reality, either person or star would fail. Perhaps, but… that doesn’t sound quite right. 

A man is a mind is a star is a mind is a man. A star, you see… it truly is a mind. More than a mind, even. A star is a collection. It is intelligence, in abstract and cyclical expression. What is an atom if it is not at least aware of its existence? Imagine if the atoms shut their eyes: the world would go blank, isn’t it this way?  In this world, the stars move with a collected and beautiful knowledge. Seeing this, I have spent an age studying it. Such is my existence: a witness to the stars. From my own birth, they accepted me and communed with me. You see, I talk to stars, and they talk to me. They dance in dreamscapes and imaginations, using such things to communicate. How else would a star speak to a person? They use dreams, of course. And so too did you use dream to communicate with me. I remember your words clear as light:

An Ocean and a new dream await you

There is a place 

It rests in a far corner of this eternity

If you go there,

you will meet me

and become me

I ask this of you

I have chased the meaning of these words for centuries- whatever you meant still eludes me. What did you mean? I suppose, after all this time, and after finally reaching you here, that is all that I have to ask: what did you mean? What did you mean by Ocean, and what do you speak of when you mention a new dream? I see you with my dreaming-eye, now, yet still, I haven’t any idea where we are… where will I find you? What will I do when I become you? Why have you made this my duty? I have searched so desperately for you, and for so long… please understand the toil I have endured. I have ventured into the heart of a nova in search of you, I looked into the demon-mind, I even sought the aid of Diver. There was much I saw in all of these lifetimes and much more that I experienced, all for you. Yet I do not know your name, and I hardly remember the texture of your voice. At times, it may have been that I forgot the purpose of my search. Understand, it has been a long journey… the memory of flesh weakens, and so too does the universe lull at times. I struggled and sometimes I even cursed you. Yet, I persevered, because I felt you nonetheless. Why have you brought me here, now? I do not even remember what I was doing before I was here…

Do you hear me?


Yes, you do. I understand now that you may not have the answers I seek. You are a scattered mind; I see that. Now that I am before you… I wonder how you could have conjured for me the message that you did. For a long time it was so clear and so resonant for me; it was guidance and comfort and grace beyond what I had known. I do not doubt you, trust that, but I am confused by your presence. What are you, really? You are not a star, even… you are not something more, and you are not something less. I do not know what you are.

May I share with you some of my experiences?


Thank you. I will start with a simple tale:



There was rot, there.

It was ancient, too

and furious…

It was lively and vengeful.

It moved with all things

not like skin or heart

it moved like memory.

Fading over time,

igniting with use,

attention, or energy.

I hoped to sever my tie with it

now, I hope to be taught how

I have seen where the darkness or suffering of a mind or a heart leads. There is a memory of this in all things. It is not a bad thing, of course. Think of it like this: where does a thought go once it is gone? Especially the ones that are rough and tumble, the ones you fight and try to exile… where do they go? They carry so much weight in the spaces they occupy. Of course, I don’t know if they go anywhere, or if they just fade. But, I saw that place, and it was like rot, and it felt like home, too. It wasn’t a bad thing, of course. To me, this felt like the place where all of those lost thoughts go. It was oozing with the things I have in me, and the things I see in you and others. It was a grey and colorful and swirling plane of mind- it was ancient, adaptive, it swelled and breathed. The rot was like flesh… it had the warmth of a body as I approached it, and as I scrutinized it with my dreaming-eye I could see patches of thought and blood stitched together and mutated into grotesque form. The rot formed as a sick amalgam of mental tides and fluctuations, like a deep well of memory filled with ancient pains and grievances with the world. It was red and flesh-like, writhing and putrid and beautiful and sad. It was intense, too- it did not move gracefully but with a twitch in its step. It pumped incessantly and mechanically, never missing the beat it seemed to fit into, like a heart or an idea. That rhythm is one I will never forget…

My vision of rot came to me at a time of grieving and loss. Perhaps it taught me to watch my dreams and how to confront them; perhaps it taught me a kind of fear. Whatever the lesson, this vision made me strong in waking. It was among the first of my lessons in this world and I carried it for an age. I learned to be strong in the face of my own suffering; indeed I learned the duty and debt I owe to pain. I began to seek out the world in a different way and took upon myself an internal and transformative journey. From that point and onwards, I have been led by a fervent drive to understand this world and its shadow. Such a grand display of suffering and chaos would not escape my mind easily, and I wished to understand how to purge it from myself and from others. Would you help me in this endeavor?

I do not know exactly how you could, but I suppose that it is possible. Does this rot also exist in you, or is it only an element of my mind and universe? We can look upon the rot together, and we can touch it, too, learn about it, move away from it… well, could we? Should we?

What do you think?


I am afraid, too. I am afraid of moving away from rot or anything like it; I am afraid also to move towards it with a mind that is open. Or, perhaps it is not fear that you feel, but something else. What do you think of that? Are you afraid? Are you bored? Are you here, with me, or somewhere else? Would you be willing to move with me into the unknown? Would you move into such places by yourself? It is perhaps the case that you cannot join me, and I cannot join you. Perhaps these are things to be discovered with one’s own sense, or perhaps these things are not real at all. 

Honestly, I was hoping that you would have more to say, or that you could tell me about what is real; what is not. It is possible that we share this journey. These questions… do you feel them? Do you feel the way your body and its mind move towards the light? Or that it moves toward something, at least. Perhaps it is not light, perhaps it is more like a gravity that exists mentally. Towards what, I do not know… but it is something, I think. It is something that moves all things towards an end. I see the world as a world of mirrors… it is all ocean, it is all lake, it is all sky above and all mirror somewhere else. I feel a well of knowledge or dreaming that exists out there, and I feel myself pointed towards that place; some of its light captured by and cast back outwards by the ocean that is me. Ah, maybe I understand now what you meant by new Ocean in your message to me… or maybe I don’t. Let me try to express myself in a different way. Let us test our understanding:

There is Ocean in Me,

and in You.

we are tide

and We 

are Tides.

Collected, awesome

movement in unison 

We are space, time

all things between

There is Ancient 

There is Word

It is crafted Beautifully

And spoken through 

I give it time 

I give it mind

it Comes to me

bleeding, true

I would like to know that your word is true… in a sense, it feels like a promise when you speak. A new dream- that is what you said to me. I have had so many dreams of my own yet those words rang so unfamiliar. A new dream… Indeed my mind is a garden of dreams… yet, the one you pointed me towards confounds me. It is not a dream you want me to pass into, or at least it does not seem like one from where I stand, so why have you described it this way? What did you mean? A dream is a true statement, is it not? I have learned as much from you, and that was early on. I have learned more since, but not enough for me to know what you meant or what you are. I don’t even know the nonsense I speak now. I walk through dream as I share with you this plea; I am not really here, you see. Let me be more clear:

I have sought an answer from you for a long time. I have had so many questions, and in so many forms and ways throughout the ages… these, I have lost. Now, I  have only my ignorance, misunderstanding. Not a proper question arises in my mind as I sit here with you. I do not know what you meant, I do not know what you mean… there is something deeply magnetic about the thing you are pointing me toward, yet I cannot see it, and I do not know if I feel it. I feel a fool, I feel on fire, alive. What I know, I know and doubt with the same mind. What I do not know… well, that is both fool and fire. It confuses me, yet it emboldens me, it makes me cower and also it makes me strong. 

It is painful, but beautiful to me, in a way. My ignorance is immense; I feel it like flooding, seeking… I do not know its source, is it in you? I do not think you made me, though you may have. If you did, is my ignorance also in the image of you? If you did not make me, then what are you? All I feel from you is how little I know, how little I am, how little……. I stand here, and I see you are like all other things. You, too, are a mirror. Just like the heat of a birthed sun or the bite of gravity, you show me only how little I know. You do not reveal yourself to me, or perhaps you are nothing, because I look upon you and I see only the blackest Ignorance. 

I am afraid to become You. I am afraid of my own dreams as they are, and the one you describe to me, new Dream… it inspires something beyond fear in me. I am afraid that I am guided by ignorance toward you, or that you are ignorance itself; I am afraid also that you are nothing and that I have conjured a fruitless Dream. I am afraid even to confront or accept this ignorance, as clear as it is. Is it this fear which bathes my ignorance and keeps it fresh in my mind? I’ve heard it said that fear exists only in a mind or a thought… do you think this is true? Or, is fear something tangible, something real and separate from me? Sometimes fear feels like an invasion of my mind. I will experience clarity in a thought or a dream, and suddenly, a fear comes, and it feels like it comes from outside me, and then it clouds me and what I see. Or, I feel ignorance, and before I can examine it, it is taken by the same fear. It feels like a fear that is not made by me; it feels something like rot or mind, eternal and active. 

It is probably the case that I am too naive to find that the center of fear is in me. Wherever it comes from, it is in me and it is me; it becomes me. If I accept it, will it dissipate? What would be revealed to me? Maybe then I could hear your voice or purge my ignorance. Maybe then the stars would speak to me in a more clear language, maybe then I could spread myself across the expanse of this existence; transform it.  I wish for so much and fear so much more, is this what holds me? Take it from me! Take it from me! Will you not? Take my wishes and take my fear, take everything from me so I can fill myself with something new. I ask this of you- no, I ask this of myself, and I ask it for you. I ask that I may find strength in ignorance, that I may embrace my fear until it becomes me. I ask that more be revealed to me, I ask for the eyes to see. I ask for seeking, I ask for the will to act. I ask this of myself, I ask this of you, I ask this of all that come before you and all who have followed. I will continue to seek you and I will continue to seek myself- I am grateful for the lack of my knowledge; for the depth of what I have to learn. I will continue, I will continue. You are my end, and my beginning, I have sought you, I have found you, I will find you, I am you and I am

I am


© 2024 AshMoses

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Added on February 20, 2024
Last Updated on February 22, 2024
Tags: existentialism, philosophy, philosophical fiction, speculative, spirituality, introspective, stream of consciousness, memoir, personal, emotional




A Story by AshMoses


A Story by AshMoses