It wasn't a thought. It wasn't a dream. It wasn't an idea, or an emotion. It wasn't even a feeling. It just was.
I did not wake. I did not turn from darkness to sudden light. I was there. Maybe I was always there, waiting.
My feet move, walking along the bright sand, the light in the sky guiding my path, painting the land with its rays. I go, passing stones and archways, whispers of tales from long ago, old memories that were no longer visible.
I jump, my tether to the world floating behind me, telling me when it will anchor me back. It is my blessing, my gift, my curse. It prevents me from infinite flight, keeps me from my freedom. But it ensures my path, my experience and memories I will create. I keep going.
My tether grows, and I can fly longer and farther, and the finite is not so heavy. I see things, larger ruins and more memories from the old ones, the whispers stronger in the brick stone. Ghosts from the past try and shatter my tether, and destroy my memories. But I don't let them. Those who left them behind, I do not gift my thoughts.
I keep going.
I find companions, beings just like I, with their own memories, and tethers. They are on the same path as I, and they are different. They know what I do, to keep going always, but the light does not wish us to be the same.
I leave the warm sands, the memories of the ones before, as cold grips my being, and my tether becomes only my curse. I fight it; I only wish to fly, to be free. The infinite I work towards. But now, it will only come at the end. I keep going. I keep going even though the cold slows me. The red brick turns to icy stone, the ones before having struggled to create these memories.
My companion cannot help me, nor I them. We are together, but we are alone. We walk side by side, our tethers strengthened at our weakness. The light is so close. I can feel it, see it beyond the snow, the gateway separating the mountain.
I keep going.
That is all we know now. We can hardly move, hardly sing to one another, our only means of speech. I see the light, ever closer, but I do not believe we will reach it.
I tried. I fought. Against my curse, my blessing, I strived. I fought when everything mourned for me. But, maybe, freedom was never meant for me. Maybe I am doomed, forever to see the light but never touch it, never feel it. Punishment, for some long-forgotten deed. Despair.
Still I go. My feet carry me, my tether short and strong. My memories are stronger still, my experiences. I feel the robes around me, woven not from my memories alone, but from every being that has come before me. Their struggle, their hopes. My hopes. My journey.
The light bathes me in warmth, and I can finally rest, my tether shattering but lifting me up, the infinite I have searched for finally within me. My robes turn white, the light painting them with my freedom.
This light is not new to me. It has never been new. I see my companions, and the ones before. Finally, my journey ends.
I did not wake. I did not turn from darkness to sudden light. I was there. Maybe I was always there. Waiting.
I keep going.