A Rambling Conjecture - By Silver

      So I was at the word mill recently, browsing like I do, viewing the stacks of words, marvelous words as well as despicable words, all there to see, when I realized I was not following even my own constantly evolving script, rather I was going all willy-nilly, a phrase I enjoy, using it often, willy-nilly or off the rails, as has been suggested before. Where might this lead? 

   Perhaps to what has been called stream of consciousness writing? Wringing out as much usable content as you can from the piles of garbage that so easily accrue. Every hang up and folly that's going through your mind written while it's still going, still dropping, no need to clean up, not now anyway. 

   Soon I'll go walking in the city of my dreams.  All of my dreams are allegedly waking dreams, dreams of a consciousness that is, on so many levels, unconscious. Unconscious enough to dream and dreaming dreams while seeing, smelling, and feeling things that seem to be co-creators of my awake dream so that nothing really is what I think it is. Certainly not what I'd been taught, although I must admit I hadn't actually been listening, but still. Things I'd heard by chance, perhaps. 

   The only actual career I've ever had was being retired and making up silly stories like this. Prior to retirement I worked at various jobs, certainly nothing like a career. Now I no longer represent value to the system, not that I ever did, not much anyway, but now it's zilch, nothing at all here, in my only career, for the rich. I feel bad for them and wonder if I should have chosen another career? I suspect this is merely a dream, another of my waking dreams that has nothing to do with whatever I was talking about. Never does. 

   Meanwhile, all along the vast walls, streets, and grottos where the unwashed cower, there's a new song a singing with everyone singing along, all along. And all our careers were just places they've put us, keeping us docile, giving us treats here and there, letting us scrap and bite each other so maybe it'll all somehow seem real, like something we'd all agreed on, like the dream was the real deal, like there could be heroes. 

   Soon I'll go walking in the city of my dreams.    

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