Now and then, when I close my eyes, when I feel the need to ask my mind for silence, it appears.
There in the distance, at the peak of the city it sits.
That glowing white light.
Euphoria haunts me.
It sits and waits with arms wide open
It yearns and invites me closer, to join it in an embrace
It visits me in my quietest moments, when no other thoughts are present
but it does not beckon.
It does not clasp or call or harken
It does not pull me into its waiting arms
Because I have been in them before.
And I shan't not again.
Not for any cruelty it beguiles, nor any unkindness
In truth, it is kindness itself.
Warm and willing and always waiting.
Providing freely, for those who wish it.
And I shan't join those arms again.
For in that unbroken kindness I find myself longing for the sorrows I had left behind.
Because it was in those sorrows, in those struggles, that my happiness grew ever brighter.
And I felt this joy, this euphoria, so freely given, was hardly earned.
And so I left it.
Returned to the joy that takes effort to find and to build.
Suffering the sorrows and the plights between,
Relishing the brightest moments, though fewer and farther.
My kindness found among kindness. Joy amongst Joy.
And yet.
And yet.
Euphoria waits.
Arms wide open, a light upon the hill, a promise of unending, immeasurable
kindness freely given.
Never prying, never calling, only waiting
And I wonder…Will I ever visit?
Will I ever leave?
Euphoria haunts me.
That glowing white light.
There in the distance, at the peak of the city it sits.
Now and then, when I close my eyes, when I feel the need to ask my mind for silence, it appears.
I'm posting about this because this entity has been with me for a very long time. It won't let me go, and I'm desperately hoping that talking about it will help rekindle the flame for this story.
I had a weird dream a few years back, I had moved out of my parents house, was living with roommates I would very soon discover were total slobs, and I was working in the Garden Center with my cat and my writing at home.
As with all my very weird and vivid dreams, I noted a few important details and jotted down a 'title' of sorts with a few key words to help me remember what happened if I ever wanted to think about it again. A few of my favourite examples are "Long Distance Ping Pong Corporation," "Murder Town," and "Ghetto Warrior Cats."
This was among the weird ones that left a profound effect on me.
I titled it "Everyone Dreams of Euphoria"
The dream starts with the blinding white light of an overcast winter sky framed by jagged stone and rebar. I'd lived in this place for a while, but not long enough to get the hole fixed.
I'm what's called a "runner." I do odd jobs around the city to earn food and materials to make my living space my own. Our word is our worth, our tasks our mission. I'm not the only runner and not everyone runs. There are bakers and farmers and miners and scrappers and people who make and mould and produce things for others. Traded by barter.
The city is old. It's built upon a once greater city, but now only a few of the great sky towers remain.
And in the center of the city, above all the people and houses and jobs, sits a church that glows that same blinding white.
The church is called "Euphoria"
Once a year, the acolytes of the church descend into the city and randomly select citizens to join and work for the church. They dress in white comfortable looking clothes and are always always smiling. This year, I'm selected. I'm invited into a cab, where I meet a wonderful older gentleman that talks the entire way about his family and his daughters and the lives of everyone he loves. He is clearly very happy.
Everyone in Euphoria is happy. Not a single frown is found among them.
The leader of the church welcomes myself and a few others that were selected in the city. His name is Father Brown. He invites us to partake in the various tasks around the church from textile to calligraphy (transcribing texts) and to partake in a taste of the euphoria the rest of them feel. I'm hesitant to remain in the church. I had plans and jobs and people down in the city I didn't want to leave behind.
Father Brown says it's fine that I want to leave. He asks that we give the church two weeks to see if what they have to offer will be a life we want to live, and if by the end of that time we still want to go home, he'll let us; but for the first night, we're bathed and fed and clothed and comfortable. I remember the bed was warm and plush and soft. An acolyte helped me find a robe small enough to fit without dragging on the ground.
The first meal I remember having a hearty soup. Thick, light, flavourful broth with vegetables. A pill is placed next to my water cup and I'm invited to take it. I don't, because you don't take strange pills. These pills are also called 'Euphoria' and it's the reason that everyone in the church is so happy and content doing their day to day routine and jobs.
There's only ONE person that doesn't seem happy, though. And that's the Chaplain. I don't know why he's unhappy. He's never smiling and Father Brown is always encouraging him to.
The two weeks are kind of a blur. I don't remember a whole lot other than a few random events in the halls or while embroidering (i was surprisingly invested in that, cause I don't embroider irl) and I remember I talked with Cabbie a LOT, he was such a wonderful father figure and I envied not knowing him sooner in my life. At the end of it, though, I approach Father Brown and tell him that, as nice as the church has been, I don't think it's the right place for me, and I wanted to go home.
He smiles like he expected me to say that.
And he lets me go.
Father brown sends me off with a wave to the waiting cabbie.
I'm skipping a few details in favour of brevity, but I remember waking up back in the real world feeling very...off. Like something took a piece of my heart and cast it in an unknown metal. Like there was something I hadn't seen that I should have. Something I had seen that I shouldn't. It felt like I had very much been in someone else's body for a long, long while, and was now in a different one.
Sometimes when I close my eyes, I still see that church. Bright and white and gently glowing atop the skyline.
To live in an honest dystopia...what would that be like?
Where your word is your worth. You barter goods and services based on time and skill. Where Trust is the currency.
The trade-off is that you develop mostly in a single skill. Apprenticed at a young age, and most trades are generations-old. Getting into a new trade is difficult after spending so long elsewhere. Could it even be possible?
What if you were offered that chance? To be given the opportunity to live a new life with new surroundings to learn new skills and trades you'd never learned before. You find things you like, things you don't, you meet new people, make new connections. It's okay that you don't know what you're doing. All they ask from you is that you try your best.
Would you stay?
Would you miss your home?
Would you look to make a new home?
Would you still try your best? Even if you're unhappy with the change?
Been thinking about Euphoria again. That strange dream about that bright church at the top of the hill. About Father Brown, the Chaplain, Cabbie, Runner. About all the people there doing their jobs and regardless of weither they're happy, they're still trying.
Chaplain isn't a happy man. I know this now. He's deeply depressed and despite how much he wants to partake in Euphoria, the drug, the church, whatever, he can't. He's physically unable to be happy no matter what he does.
And that...that has to hurt to know that. To know deep down that you will never be happy but trying anyway. Trying and trying and trying. Ddicating every waking moment to your work, something you put so much of yourself into that the quality of your workis now synonymous with how you value yourself. And when that quality starts dropping for one reason or another...what do you do?
Father Brown knows this. He's aware of this deep unhappiness that the Chaplain feels, and he wants to help. But he doesn't know how to help because Chaplain doesn't ever ask. Father Brown's stepped in before and been burned for his efforts. But no matter what, he still wants to try.
