Open my eyes, illumine me, Spirit divine…
This is Uwemnyin: a surreal dimension.
With no hills, vegetation, buildings, streets, natural or man-made obstacles, I see as far as my eyes can.
There is a bright Light the source of which I cannot tell. It stands out in this realm. Everyone can see it. None can hide from its rays. It is the only thing that keeps me alive and sane.
In this dimension, there are no complexities of everyday life: we do not eat, we do not drink, bathing as an act is never conceived or needed, same with changing of clothes, and sleeping, which is a luxury that’s nonexistent; no one dies. Even time seems unquantifiable. Out here, all we do is run…or not.
There are no select paths on which to run: the whole plane before us is our track. No one is disqualified for choosing not to run. Reaching home, the source of the Light, and doing so before home seizes to exist breeds enough motivation for the race.
With no place for disqualification and no external expectations in the race, every participant is granted the choice to do as he or she wills. Few run with intent; some just walk; the rest, of which I am a part, choose to stand still and watch.
Those who run, do not run in competition against one another, neither in a race against time. Each person runs with the approach of someone who has caught sight of something which if lost translates to his or her doom.
I am blind, oblivious to what the runners see, so I stand still. No runner has the patience to WAIT and tell what he or she sees. The best any one does as they run along is shout a message of what he/she sees with the hope that an ardent listener will hear and act accordingly.
This brings me to Uyom.
After watching the runners for moments, I hear them, the distant shouts: growing louder as he, the source draws near. There’s trembling in his voice. Listening carefully, I hear them, Uyom’s words “We are losing Ikang! Run! Save yourselves!”
It’s not entirely enormous, but something ignites within, my eyes enlighten and for the first time, I begin to see what makes the runners run. Uyom shouted for fear of what the losers in this race would suffer: the dread of losing out on the Light, on Life. Ahead of us all is a portal sliding shut. Beyond this portal shines Ikang, the Light, full in its brightness and splendor, such as never before seen. It’s easy to accept this as Uwemnyin’s life source as it is mine.
As this portal slides close, Light dims. I try to imagine the result of the lack of this Light. Death? So I join Uyom and the other runners in saving myself. Uyom runs on ahead, pushing aside everyone who stands in his way but still appears to be slackened by a weight: I can’t tell what it is, as a crowd of people immediately form between us two as we run on.
I run, fainting, paying little attention to how tired I am getting, with my eye on the Light, knowing full well I would rest on the other side of the portal. Knowing I would find rest in Ikang.