Just Suppose

You’re right on the money with that. We’re all like detectives in life. There’s something at the end of the trail that we’re all looking for.
—David Lynch

Sometimes you slide into a situation—sometimes a situation slams into you—and sometimes you entice a situation. Unreliable narrators supply illusive information—prisms play tricks and clues elude. Here’s where you slip undercover out in the open. You reinvent the pieces, reshuffle the cards, examine the springs on the trap, splice frames from the past (exorcise the useless ones), test future angles, split the present and re-examine. For a fleeting moment engage the rational mind, then abandon for delicious instincts as you gather & weave—‘til a silken path of abstract patterns unfurls.

Lured by the pulse of a wave, the hint of a stain, the spritz of a laugh, the merest halt of a footstep & strange glints of steel—I align with slivers of light suspended in the blackness beyond. Not for me, the disarray of dawn. Rather a brazen ripening of the moon reveals with verve deep in the night.

 You don’t need a special place to meditate. You can transcend anywhere in the world. The unified field is here, and there, and everywhere.
—David Lynch

So rather than a future hurtling towards us unchecked—suppose we dwell in a new dimension? A dimension equipped with a curated past, where we live in the present while shaping a future. A future where we sit under swaying fronds sipping elixirs of truth & beauty laced with swirls of grace. Where we dine on sweet full-bodied greens tinged with honey. A dimension where salty tears cleanse away hate. Where equality equates with a mathematical equation 1+1=2 and the acquisition of financial gain doesn’t elicit crime for compensation. A dimension where we sewer deception and promulgate a higher perception.

With a hard reset, we can excise and revise what never belonged & restore what we’ve lost.

Suppose we create an artificial island that supplies affordable (as in gratis) communal housing for those Anti-Vs who insist the virus doesn’t exist. This fake space would be free of intrusive science based health care so the blissful inhabitants would have lifelong tenancy, given there would be no way off the island until such time as the planet was deemed (by science) to be virus free for eternity. And in the wake of this shuffle and another plea for humanity, suppose we offer climate deniers transportation vouchers to relocate to a hot zone (with a view) to re-evaluate under metal roofing—to glimpse fire whirls and watch the glaciers melt.

Suppose all these situations originate with a paranormal reckoning orchestrated by creatures in the ether. Or suppose a massive data terminal resides in an altered dimension—available if only we can crack the multilingual, numeric, cryptic symbol code.

Negativity is the enemy of creativity.
—David Lynch

But suppose reservoirs of infinite wisdom radiate connectors filled with answers—and gift-wrapped offers of fulfillment await—just down the trail.

You see, sometimes (or most of the time) I don’t know where words & images will take me—where I’ll find myself or what I might discover. I began this investigation with only images in fluid motion, emboldened by a foggy night and a wild (silent) celebration. I contemplated coincidence and uncanny connections, the odds of intersections and which signs might show the way. I spliced several segments, lined up their angles, and plumbed the horizon line certain of certain uncertainties—but I’m holding out for more.

And suppose—now in the presence of tangled vines and fireflies in this utopian dimension, I hear the siren song of tricksters. Suppose I agree to tell you about a divine intervention and its revelation—and a few tantalizing tips re: the cryptic code. Or suppose I leak the location of a clandestine rendezvous where I flame with a distant lover ‘til just before dawn. Suppose spirits sync to whisper details—

And in the “here, and there, and everywhere”—just suppose.