His life was like some sort of cruel joke. But at the end aren’t all jokes cruel? Life is synonymous with cruelty, for human nature is cruel. In his quest for meaning, he had discovered it. Life, love and laughter was what gave life meaning. However, in one of the biggest jokes yet. As a reflection of his own life he found that he had been robbed of these three things. And what a joke it was, his life. Sitting there in his own room, tortured by his own thoughts. His own thoughts misled him… It was as if his own mind had convulsed in the throes of pain and misery. And now he was no longer sure of his own identity. He had lost that through escaping the pain. What was real and what was not real? He was not sure of anything anymore. His memories from every part of his life were disturbed. He had learned to take a beating at a very young age and since then had been taking beatings throughout. After all, it was the only thing he was good at. Or so people would have him believe. ‘Take the hits, it will make you stronger’, he had always told himself.

To this point he had believed it. Now, he was not so sure. His memories were confused as he deliberated between truth and reality. What was true was not necessarily reality and what was reality was not necessarily true. These are things that must be made clear. And so as he practiced the art of sleep, he explored the realms of his consciousness to get down to the bottom of the problem.

And Kali was there, at the bottom of his thoughts. There she stood with her necklace of skulls and severed head in hand. She told him one thing, “You have been hypnotised.” And for this sentiment, the world and all of its experiences were opened up to him in its full ferocity. Every pathway that he could have lived, should have lived, existed in the capacities of his mind. And in that he remembered all pathways of life, how things could have occurred, would have occurred, in its different manifestations.

As the memories flooded back over him, his mind became a white wash. Each memory came back to him, replacing that which he thought he had previously experienced and for that he was lost. Floating throughout all possible realities, like on a cloud, wading through a river approaching a waterfall. That which was otherwise unknown became known as he drifted beyond the realm of sleep and went beyond different points of existence.

At these points there was no pain, just a torrent of experience as it whitewashed above and below him, through him the different illusions flowed through his veins. The role of the hypnotist gives us life and we come to realise that all things are nought. They are nothing. There is nothing and everything at the same time. For life is an illusion and all different possible realities could have been played out in their different aspects. He understood this now, with the divine help of Kali, nothing is real, but what you make of it.

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