WHITE

“Imagination is more important than knowledge.”
Albert Einstein

“Where are you?”
“Let the dark enter your eyes and you will see me.”
Simon relaxed and a faint white round shape became visible right before his face. He carefully grabbed it with his right hand feeling more sure of what he saw when he could sense it. No longer did the balls cause him pain or worry, but relief. He knew they were not out to harm him
“I can’t find my way. The light in the tunnel must have gone out.”
“Next to you is a crack in the wall. Can you find it?”
Simon used his other hand to locate what White had spoken of and indeed there it was, rather large, and a dim light emanated from it.
“Crawl into it. You’ll find a room on the other side.” White instructed and Simon obliged not knowing what else to do. The task was rather difficult and he let White fly off his hand in order to achieve it.
Once on the other side he found himself in a tiny cave-like room probably occupied by some homeless person because it contained a dirty old mattress, a small wooden box used as a table and some plastic bags filled with objects that looked too filthy to investigate. On the wooden box burned a candle. Whoever was here would soon be back it seemed.
“Don’t worry, I lit the candle.” White assured.
“You?”
“Lay down on the bed.”
“On that?” Simon pointed.
“You have done well, but you’re far from complete. It takes great power to resist what has been cursed upon you. I am White and I am here to give you dreams enriched with truth in order to ward of any fear or evil that might still linger within you. Are you ready for this?”
“Yes,” Simon replied and with a wave of White’s hands he fell down onto the mattress. His eyes closed and he began to drift… sleep… dark… white… rest… aah…


“I need a job.”
“Why?”
“So I can get money.”
“For what?”
“For food.”
“Why do you need food?”
“So I can stay alive to work.”

“I need a car.”
“Why?”
“So I can get to work.”
“Why do you need to work?”
“So I can pay for the car.”

“I need a home.”
“Why?”
“Because I need to sleep somewhere.”
“Why do you need to sleep?”
“Because without sleep I can't work.”

“I need a drink.”
“Why?”
“To relax after work.”
“Why do you need to relax?”
“Because work is hard.”
“Why is it hard?”
“Because I have to do it.”
“Why do you have to do it?”
“So I can afford my drink.”

“I need a holiday.”
“Why?”
“So I don’t have to work.”
“Why don't you want to work?”
“Because I enjoy holidays even more.”
“Why?”
“Because I can do what I want.”
“So why work?”
“Holidays cost money.”

“I’m really looking forward to my retirement.”
“Why?”
“Because then I don’t have to work.”
“How many years do you have to work before you retire?”
“About forty.”
“Why not sooner?”
“Because it takes that long to be allowed retirement, and also it takes that long to save up some money for it.”
“Why do you need money when you retire?”
“So I can enjoy it.”
“But that’s 50% of your life spent to support the last 25%, what did you do with the first 25%?”
“I studied and learned my future trade.”
“Why did you do that?”
“So I could get a good job that paid well and secure my retirement.”

“I want to have a child.”
“Why?”
“Someone has to work when I’m dead.”
“Why?”
“Otherwise society will crumble.”
“What do you owe society?”
“My education, my career, my retirement.”
“Didn’t you do all those things for money?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“So I could have a good life.”
“But didn’t you enjoy your holidays and weekends more?”
“Yes.”
“So why did you work?”
“To support my holidays and weekends.”

“But if you’ve worked for, let’s say, fifty years won’t you end up rich?”
“No, about a third went to taxes and the rest to food, rent and entertainment.”
“But all those things were needed to support your work life, right?”
“I suppose so, in a way.”
“Doesn’t that seem a bit pointless… Why did you live at all?”
“When I was a kid I had dreams.”
“Did you fulfill those dreams?”
“No...
I had to work!”


Simon opened his eyes.
The light from the candle flickered. He sat up.
“How long have I been asleep?” he said yawning.
“Not long enough,” White answered and with a strange gesture sent Simon back down into the realm of dreams.


There is a ladder with a rung at the bottom and a rung at the top, but none in-between, and it stands of its own accord in the middle of a vast barren wilderness. I know I’m supposed to climb it but the two rungs are too far apart. I look around and there is nothing that can aid me. For some reason a depression overpowers me and I fall to my knees sobbing.
A weird blinking cube of glass turns up from out of nowhere. I pick it up and hold it in my hand. Inside lights, colors and shapes morph and transform to my delight. It keeps me occupied for a long time and I don’t even notice that the quilt of night covers the world…
A bright white full moon appears in the black sky completely devoid of stars, and it asks:
“Why are you playing with the cube and not climbing the ladder?”
“I can’t reach the other rung, and the cube was so alluring…”
Then the moon began to laugh so loud that the ground shook causing the ladder to fall to the ground stirring up the sand all around it. I then discover to my amazement that the grains of sand revealed all the other rungs. They were there all along only invisible and I look back up at the moon.
“I didn’t know,” I say and the moon still laughing looks back down at me and replies with mock in its voice:
“No, you didn’t try!”


Simon awoke with a cold sweat dripping from his head. He wiped it off with the sleeve of his arm.
“What… was…” he said and tried to rise from the bed, but felt too weak to do so. A part of him decided he was still dreaming, another that he was not. Feverish. Cold.
“Go back to sleep,” White ordered and waved his hands.


A forest fresh from a full nights rain spread out before Simon. The thick vegetation gleamed in the sunlight. Spring had come and cleared all the gloom away. A small winding path found its way through the woods and Simon spotted a man walking on it. He was clad in an old robe, with a sack hanging from his shoulder and a symbolic walking stick in his hand. Swiftly Simon crouched behind a bush so as not to be spotted. For some reason he knew that the man was an alchemist.
In the middle of a small groove stood a statue of abstract form covered in mystical symbols with the word VITRIOL at the base.
The Alchemist stopped and studied the piece for a long time. Suddenly another man appeared. It was a priest. He too examined the statue.
“Some ancient pagan god I presume,” said the Priest. The Alchemist shook his head.
“No it’s not ancient.”
“No?” the Priest said surprised, “It sure looks it.”
“And it’s not a god,” the Alchemist continued, “but an instruction on how to become a god.”
The Priest’s eyes fired up and he instantly spat at the statue proclaiming:
“I will listen to no such thing. There is only one God and he speaks to me!”
“You are your own god and you speak through yourself,” the Alchemist countered and then spat at the statue. Astonished at the action of the Alchemist the Priest asked:
“Do you loath this then as much as I?”
“No.”
“Then why did you spit at it?”
“Because I have done what the statue has described. I am a god and as a god I can do what I please. Even spit on that which made me a god to prove my point.”
“And what is your point?” asked the Priest with a stunned expression.
“If a fool anoint, if cool smoke a joint!”


Simon woke up in a dizzy blur and he shook his head. Slowly reality came into focus. That last utterance of the Alchemist must have been some private joke in his subconscious. Everything else made sense. In fact it made a whole lot of sense. Simon sat up and felt both fresh and at rest. He looked at White who was casually soaring next to his head.
“What did you learn?” White asked.
“Many things, lastly that I can be a God, or am one… not so sure…”
“Good enough, and know that it’s a very easy thing to understand… but it’s a much harder thing to know what to do about when one has realized it.”
“I agree,” Simon said and sighed, “and what now?”
“Now,” said White, “I bid you farewell.”


Gone.
The light from the candle too. I can’t see anything. There is a foul smell in here. I wouldn’t be surprised if whoever use this place as a bedroom also use it as a toilet. I have to get out.
I clamber, crawl, and locate the crack from where I entered. Now I use it to leave. I think I can hear my trousers getting torn on something but I’m not sure since I’m blind in this darkness. There is a smell of burned rubber and it sickens me. The ground is hard and moist. I hear a rat scuttle away but I decide it was only in my imagination.
Back out on the other side of the crack I find myself still in the dark. Still in the tunnels of the subway. Where are the trains? I haven’t heard them for a long time. I haven’t heard them at all. Silence is solitude.
What now?
The dreams White produced in my mind haunts me, and more so, their meaning. It’s a lot to take in, especially for a man so lost as I have been, and what do I have to do now? What can I… … maybe… …I… need to…


“Die!”
“Who’s there?”
“Black.”
“Where are you?”
“I am right in front of you.”
Slowly Simon extended his right hand and felt a small fluffy ball step into his palm.
“You need to die,” Black repeated.
“Suicide?”
“No… Death is rebirth! You need to be reborn. To transform. To separate yourself from the false self. You need to destroy what you are to become what you were. Next to you is a door that will take you to the surface. The sign that is supposed to mark it out is broken, but it’s there nonetheless.”
Simon fumbled with his left hand for the doorknob and when it was found he pushed it down and suddenly a white synthetic light surrounded him. There was a metallic staircase. Quickly he used it to reach the surface. In his hand he saw the black ball and it comforted him that another had come. With their help anything seemed possible, especially hope.

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