In the Beginning, We Were Only Dreams

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic

Before the beginning of time, there were dreams that blew across the firmament of all that was. It was when dreams were fragments of unformed souls, seeking refuge from the expanse of time and the whirlwinds of destinies that filled the heavens and the void beyond.

IN THE BEGINNING, WE WERE ONLY DREAMS

By Al Garcia

Before the beginning of time, there were dreams that blew across the firmament of all that was.  It was when dreams were fragments of unformed souls, seeking refuge from the expanse of time and the whirlwinds of destinies that filled the heavens and the void beyond. 

It was dreams that ignited the spark of human imagination.  It was dreams that began to fuel the ingenuity, creativity and vision of the human mind.  And it was dreams that set afire the passion of the human soul.  And in that moment of fire, ecstasy and realization, the consciousness of man rose from the depths of obscurity and insignificance.

And in the Americas, a land of lakes and rivers, valleys and mountains, the destiny of man flourished beneath a canopy of jungle growth and vegetation of every type and kind.  It was the dawning of the age of empires and of kingdoms in the Americas, inspired by native American civilizations, rivaling the Egyptian and Asian dynasties, before the age of exploration.  It was the time of the Mayans, Incas and Aztecs.  A time of warriors and of thinkers.  A time of the adoration of the heavens and the stars, and reverence for the rivers and the lands, and for the creatures that roamed, free and wild, among the forests and the fields across a new-found continent.

It was the age of dreams and of dreamers in the Americas – a time before the Enlightenment, the Renaissance, the Reformation, and certainly way before the Scientific Revolution.  It was a world beyond the bounds of knowledge or understanding -- remote and isolated from the emerging centers of influence and supremacy.  It was a world conceived by nature and reigned by the imagination, inspiration and creativity of thirsty minds and resilient souls, in search of the very nectar of creation – purpose, meaning and understanding.

I am a part of the remnants of their empires and their kingdoms, once nestled in tropical jungles, rainforests and on mountain tops overlooking the Caribbean.  My roots touched the magnificent edifices of limestone and rock that reached toward the sky, as if to touch the stars.  And I wonder how such distinct and distant civilizations like the Mayans and Aztecs, Egyptians, Assyrians and ancient Indians and Tibetans, among others, could have conceived and constructed such similarly designed, perfect and timeless temples to their gods?  It baffles the mind to think about the possibilities or the reasons why. 

And to think that this is my history.  Our history.  My heritage.  These are my roots, and ghosts that haunt my mind.  And now, after years of brooding anticipation, I greet with awkward acceptance, the finality of my presence in a dream begun before I ever came to be.  And still, I have not tasted the nectar of creation, nor found purpose, meaning or understanding.  How I hunger to understand the epic of my origin, and feel the fascination and exhilaration of the time before the age of enlightenment, and before the breaking dawn in the Americas.  How I long to see the days gone by, and look beyond the days that lay ahead.  It is the winter of my life, and I have just begun to sense the dreams that made me whole, and thrust me to heights beyond my grasp, but within my sight.

And to think that in the beginning, we were only dreams of the night that came to life, and now, life has become the dream that seeks to find the dreamer of us.  And what becomes of us when we pierce the dream and awake to find the actuality of us?  Will we simply fade away, or will we understand the purpose and the meaning, and complete the perfect circle without end?


Submitted: June 26, 2021

© Copyright 2021 A.Garcia. All rights reserved.

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