On this rainy day, she remembered that meeting… The rain and lightning striking the sea. Waves of memories. That feeling she never experienced again with anyone, something piercing, indescribable in words, only possible to feel if you’re open to the unknown. You don’t know what it is, but it’s so beautiful—just a touch of the hand, just a look into the eyes, and you see an entire world there. She would return to that moment in her memories, though at times, she wanted to forget it and live as if it had never happened. Life is such a strange thing, waiting for a miracle to happen again. Waiting for the universe to open its doors to you and for that moment to repeat itself.
It was a Revelation. A moment when you become the whole world. You won’t find this in theology or philosophy, in churches or universities. Revelation is available to all, but it doesn’t reveal itself to everyone. And if you search for it and truly want to find it, it will come to you and open its doors. It’s impossible to forget it, though you can tuck it away on some distant shelf of your memory, hiding it even from yourself. Sometimes memories emerge from the depths, and you once again recall that important and precious thing, the treasure you’ve hidden so well.
When a moment of happiness comes, it’s a state of being where time doesn’t exist, and it’s a miracle—but you can’t believe it, you’re afraid of something, and you keep moving on, wondering, “Maybe that call wasn’t meant for me?”
She stepped outside and inhaled the damp autumn air. The wet asphalt reflected the large, bright windows of the café across the street. The visitors sat by the windows with the faces of weary Gods, as if they’d been here since the beginning of time, playing games for so long they had grown tired.
It was time to move further along the winding streets where you wander between shop windows displaying goods for sale. You feel like a traveler who has fallen asleep in an enchanted forest, and it’s all just a dream, only a dream. But there’s a small trick, a loophole—realize that it’s a dream, and journey through it, intersecting with the dreams of other dreamers.
At night, in dreams, you sought the one your heart loved. The dreams of lovers intertwined: “You’ve been gone a long time,” he said, putting down his book. “There used to be a library here, but now it’s just a memory, recorded in an archive.” “There’s always much to do—roles to play, masks to wear,” she replied. “In the Metropolis of Solitude,” he added, drawing out the words.
The dream dissolved into the air. The wind stirred the curtains, revealing a view of an apple orchard with ripe, juicy fruits. Or was that, too, just a dream?
Life scatters people, but the universe helps lovers meet again, at the moment when they are ready and will no longer lose each other. In dark times, Love is more important than ever, for only it can pull you out of the darkness and lead you to the light.
No one knows where or how they’ll meet their love. It’s a happy accident that will mark their entire life. What do you lack? What aches in your heart? What are you searching for, or who? Where is this happiness, and how can you feel it again?
Lonely souls wander through the Metropolis of Solitude. Rain pours from the sky, so that the rivers burst their banks. But great waters cannot extinguish love, rivers cannot flood it.
The dreamer had a vision. And in this dream, he saw a planet where a red rose had bloomed. And at night, when he couldn’t sleep, while the city slept, he gazed into the boundless cosmos, where stars shine and countless other universes and planets exist. But somewhere out there, on one planet, a red rose had bloomed.
All roads lead to the source, and all begin there. The roads spread out in different directions across the world, circled the globe, and came together, merging into one. Past, present, and future intersected at one point, and time dissolved.
This journey of travelers continues even now. A journey in search of what was lost. They fell asleep in high-speed trains, in the seats of airplanes flying over the Earth. Where is everyone rushing to? As if trying to catch something important and elusive. A plane flies through the dark starry sky, and one dreamer dreams, flying over the city, dreaming…
“You walked near the garden; it was spring, and the chestnut trees were in bloom, bees gathering nectar from the flowers. You walked along the street with the old city’s architecture. And I saw that you were Spring itself. The wind blew from the river, tossing your golden hair. The wind that lifted me above the city, and I flew.”
Lovers fly over the Tower of Babel, over the Pyramids, over the Colosseum. They fly through time as civilizations fall and rise again from the ruins. Modern Babylon, with its towers of skyscrapers, will also remain unfinished. In the streets, people rush like ants, colliding with one another, moving chaotically in the flow of the crowd. Everything is just a moment.
The myths describe a Golden City where magical songs are sung, but no one knows where it is. Searchers with old maps try to find the Golden City, but all their maps are fake, and they will never find it. This city reveals itself only to those who seek it not for material gain. The Golden City, with a garden where it is eternally spring.
And the dreamer dreamed of white flowers falling from a tree, the wind swirling them into a spiral.
“My soul’s beloved, tell me a thousand and one stories. Tell me of the sunrise over the river, of the great salty sea, tell me of the mountains covered with autumn’s multicolored trees, of the forest with a spring of living water, of the night with stars shining in the distance. And though the fiery rain of hatred is falling , tell me of the most important thing, for time no longer exists.”
“Awaken the beauty of your heart. When you love one, you love the entire universe. Only love can bring peace and harmony to this mad world. A loving heart is sincere and sensitive.”
Thus, the dreamers traveled in their dreams, awakening in their souls the anticipation of a meeting.
To enter that primordial forest, where every tree is alive and the ferns stretch across the ground, shimmering with all colors, where the waterfall flows slowly and calmly, descending into the river that runs below.
“When we finally meet at the center of the world, the darkness will scatter, and all fears will be left behind. The rivers will return to their banks, and the fiery rain will cease to fall from the sky. Flowers will bloom, and the scent of jasmine will fill the entire garden.”
The clock’s hands moved forward, and morning was breaking in the Metropolis of Solitude. The dreamers slowly awoke, approached their windows, and gazed at the thick fog that blanketed the entire city. It was only a dream.
