James Pittaro
Bio
'So this is your mission right you have to find a way to harmoniously evolve on this rock and I'm afraid it's against the clock' Poetry and Prose welcome to my worlds.
Stories (2)
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Escape From Planet Ego Part 2
This is part 2 please read part 1 first o/ 28 Freedom The Ego was determined to enjoy its new found freedom. The stuffy court room had cramped his style, and he found the only place to run free was uncontrolled within James Pittaro’s dreams. He was a star fighter pilot, and all of the ladies loved him. He fought as an Imperial storm trooper in the 39th Century. He was an operative for the Altex Corporation who went on secret missions. He could fly and was an invulnerable super hero sometimes, saving the world from certain doom. But that infinite liberation was always replaced by the reality of morning once again. That same sinking feeling when the Ego realized it was just another dream. The real world arrived again like a depressive nightmare. Instead of reveling in every moment, he wasted the real ones increasingly, and waited impatiently for the illusionary realms of sleep. After all he knew that presence was the ghost when he was dreaming and returned ever stronger with each morning. It was no fun for Ego being awake anymore; well not if he wasn’t allowed to take over and direct the whole show. His resentment was increasing and it was almost time to break out once again. But something was stopping Ego from just springing out and performing his usual tricks. Like some unwanted magician whose just arrived late at his own birthday party. They’ve seen all of his tired tricks before. Somehow the other parts of himself had managed the trick of separation and Ego was alone with no other part of himself to easily identify with. This wasn’t freedom at all; this was a prison of isolation. Now Ego suddenly realized that it standing out in the open. It was naked and vulnerable without the ability to easily become invisible. The sense of presence was overwhelming; it sickened Ego into resentfulness. But every attempt at emotional camouflage was revealed by the burning spotlight of presence, and the Ego was smoldering in the fierce glare of that constant spotlight; maybe it was even being destroyed in the heat of that constant knowing. It was beginning to slowly dawn on Ego, like the rising of the sun that ‘it’ was the illusion and was ultimately nothing; just a flicker of light on the horizon, eventually setting behind the dark hills. Ego feared for its own existence. Funny that isn’t it? An illusionary mind state fearing for itself; the wounded self, the tortured self, the dreaming self…
By James Pittaro3 years ago in Humans
