Dream recollection and a philosophical rant: What use is a Paradise you can't experience?

I opened my eyes in paradise. A beautiful, lush tropical forest, slowly transitioning into a beach. The sun was up - it was an early morning. Despite it's intense light, I did not feel hot; all thanks to a pleasant breeze coming from the shoreline, which I could see in gaps between the vegetation. This day, this moment, was perfect. I knew without a doubt, that this was surely The Promised Land. Shangri-La. Eden's garden. No matter the name, there could be no other place as pleasant as it.

I wasn't here to marvel, though. So taking a deep breath, I started on my way. I made it past the trees' and vines' shady cover, and now stood in the open, looking out to the destination of my journey.

A building. In a paradoxical way, it simultaneously fit in to the landscape perfectly, while also being jarringly out of place. It was my work. Not in terms of making money, more-so a place to which I went on a schedule to make an effort and move further in life. I looked around again; the pale-blue sky, the swaying palm trees, the white sand. With all of it around, I did not want to go to work. But nevertheless, I took a step forward and gripped the door handle:

"Paradise will not go anywhere, I can afford a couple hours away"

Having said that to myself, I pulled the door open.

I opened my eyes in paradise. A beautiful, lush tropical forest, slowly transitioning into a beach. The sun was up - it was an early morning. Despite it's intense light, I did not feel hot; all thanks to a pleasant breeze coming from the shoreline, which I could see in gaps between the vegetation. And how beautiful that vegetation was! All of the trees, the shrubbery, the grass and lichen seemingly entered it's flowering season all at once. There was colors and fruits and pleasant scents any way you turned.

But I did not have time to stop and smell the flowers. It was time for work, and so I started on my way dutifully. It was with alarm that I realized that I felt a twinge of dissatisfaction. It has not been a single day since I was here last. Actually, I could not tell how much time has passed. The beach definitely has not been this colorful the last time I saw it. And I did know I saw it more than once, after all, I went to work every day.

"No, no, it is all fine. All people go to work. I am sure it will only be a matter of time until I can get a break and walk a path somewhere else"

With that statement firmly made to myself, I pulled the door open.

I opened my eyes in paradise. A beautiful, lush tropical forest, slowly transitioning into a beach. The sun was up - it was an early morning. It shined as gleefully as any other day, with the sea breeze responding as it does. Today, the sand was especially velvety, so I chose to forgo putting on my shoes, instead feeling a reassuring coolness from the shadow covered ground. It was as perfect as ever.

And I do mean ever.

How long have I been here? Has it been months? Years? Millenia, eons, infinities? The perfection has never been disturbed one moment, though then again, I only see this place one time per day, with whatever comes after the door being a blurry haze I cannot recall for the life of me.

And there is plenty to recall.

The clothes on my back have changed, and even these are getting worn. The previously open beach now has an invisible, but nonetheless clear "Right path", perfected over iterations upon iterations. My body feels heavy, do people age in paradise? At this point I do not think, do not wonder, do not force myself to walk. My mind does it automatically - muscle memory of the highest order.

Perhaps because of how perfect my daily life is, I notice it.

A tail, right where my next step would have landed. I turn back carefully, to confirm, and yes, indeed, right there on the path is a Rattlesnake. If it felt threatened, was ready to attack me, it would have sounded it's unmistakable rattle; but it did not.

I was safe. The logical thing was to immediately take the next step, avoiding the creature, to make my way down the path, to go to work, and open my eyes here the next morning. After all, who knows if paradise has ambulances. I cannot risk my heaven, what would there be to live for?

But some latent part of me awoke in this moment, having laid dormant for centuries - probably biding its' time. It screamed, recounting every trip I took down this same path, how every time I would just end up back at the start, with no time for paradise, or happiness, or memory of the day before; except for the fact of that day going by. What use is paradise if all it amounts to is a pretty back drop?

But I could not do it. I was scared. Scared of the snake, scared of getting hurt, scared of loosing a worthless perfect world; and so I stepped over it. Made it out of the forest, and over the beach and to the door, felt it's cool finish on my fingers as I pulled it open, still unsure if I was making the right decision here.

I woke up in paradise. Turned off my alarm which was yet to go off, and marveled at the blood red sunrise as I brushed my teeth. Today was... Well, it really didn't matter what the day was called; the schedule called for work, and I had to answer. It was the only right thing to do, after all.

I drove to the construction site, stopping for coffee on the way (it was divine, as always). Seemingly yesterday, builders have been making solid progress, but with the autumn rainfall it has slowed down to a crawl. When did the seasons change? No time to dwell. There was an engineer there. We talked about rebar and cement, different dimensions and load bearing points. A lot of words, a lot of time, not anything worth remembering.

I got back in my car. Drove to a warehouse, where I needed to talk to a salesman of something; which I am sure was massively important. On the way I spotted a restaurant on the side of the road. They have divine pancakes there: sweet, sour, whatever the heart desires, really. I thought about stopping. I wasn't hungry, but I wasn't full either. So, whatever I guess. I can enjoy myself when work is over.

I don't remember how I got home. That salesman was incredibly tiring. At least I think he was. For all I know, this could just be my body giving out, but if that's the case, it better stop right now - I can't work if I am dead, or injured, or off sick.

My father meets me at the door. He smiles and warmly praises me for how well I'm doing. I grin in return. He's right. I'm only 20, have yet to finish university, but am already living in paradise. I have a stable job, am respected by my peers and elders alike, for the ability to expansively talk about the new laws passed today, as well as speculate on tomorrow's stock market's crashes.

Everything is perfect.

My life is set ahead of me.

And yet, I stand, staring at a poster promising great financial compensation for going to war in Ukraine. I do not need the money. Hell, the last thing I want to do is get involved in an armed conflict. But it's an option.

I think back to a time before I had a schedule. The hundreds of miles I walked between two large cities in Yorkshire. That was such a marvelous adventure. I reminisce about Snake Pass - the road that gradually started to feel like home to me. Perhaps I should become a trucker. Travel the roads, see the world's sights. Sure, it will never be as luxurious as what I have now, and maybe if I just keep things as is and work hard enough, I could at some point afford to make the same trips, but in the latest convertible with no cares in the world. I could do that. But hey, trucking is still an option.

I chuckle to myself, a cloud of vapor escaping my mouth. For seemingly the first time in years, I look up and see snow falling. That's right... Summer has passed long ago.

For a split second, I feel all of the emotions that have lost their meaning, anger, sadness, pain, despair, fear, confusion; and then it's back to normal.

I smile. But this time, it's different. My eyes are just a little more focused on the world. My brain seemingly remembered how to use it's higher functions.

Yes, I am in paradise. The place in life where a lot of people wish they were. But this place, this routine, this methodology of living; well, it's just not for me.

Will the snake's bite hurt? Definitely.

V

Will enrolling in the armed forces make my life an actual hell? Definitely.

Will throwing away all my potential hurt and disappoint people? Definitely.

Will I not know if I made the right choice, until it is perhaps too late? Definitely.

But that is the price I will have to pay for a shot at life. Real life. Not this set-piece masquerade distorted by smoke and doctrine, fed to me as the one and only "correct" way.

Still, one step at a time. The fact that I'm about to do something idiotic; potentially ruin my life; deliberately step on the snake's tail... It does not mean I can't be smart about it.

So for now, I'll have a cigarette, and find a place to write my story, abstract as it may be.

Thank you for reading.

I hope, if you are stuck in hellish heaven like I am, you will be able to find your own snake to get you out of there. And I certainly hope it's bite does not hurt too much.

Carpe Diem, fellow human.