The Binding

Eternal darkness engulfed nothingness. Particles of dust floated through a misty substance, often colliding. Nothing but a stone cold, dull noise escaped these interactions. Tangents that broke away were the only creation in this universe. This was life before the Binding: no earth, no wind, no fire, no air. Only floating, grey flakes and the absence of creativity. Beyond any scientific logic, two empty grains coincided. Yet this was not the shock. The disturbance came when these two grains were inexplicably kindled. Simple interactions had never before caused such a disruption.

It didn’t happen at first. After a few seconds, however, a faint sizzle materialized. Soon, the sound blossomed into no less than the uproar of a tea kettle about to burst. Then it happened; the spark ignited. A radiating white sphere pulsed through the emptiness. Inside the bleached circle, blurred edges of colors clarified into definition. The color prisms opened at the seams. Then, like a movie scene, the view honed into the stuff of dreams, nightmares too: fictitious tales, glory days, adventurous endeavors, gloomy events, harsh plots, ugly truths. Like no other, this scene is so powerful that it has the ability to give color to a blank canvas.

Seemingly lasting for an infinite amount of time, yet realistically only a matter of seconds,  this is the realm of the mind that is only accessible during deep sleep. The plot for any fable is stored here, in the atoms of the universe. Humans and animals all recharge through the fuel of stories. The mind creates them through memories, experiences, imagination, curiosities, with no limitations. Stories are the stuff of dreams. Yes, truth too, but the revolutionary ideas come from deep within. This is why we must sleep. Our subconscious holds the secrets, the truth, the entertainment. The art of storytelling happens in the obscure line between reality and dreams.