Quiet Hours

by axeonis

Rating: everyone
Tags: Original Character, Slice of Life, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic
Length: 1243

Insomnia breeds inspiration

Far off the beaten path lies a cabin in a valley, a home away for a writer and her muse. Together they spend the days weaving tales for all of Equestria to enjoy. Night rarely brings rest to some who seek it, ideas give way to restless wandering. Tonight like so many others I find myself lost to the nagging of thought.

Published 2013-05-22 10:30:01 UTC
Last updated 2013-05-22 10:30:01 UTC

Perspective

Perspective

Reality. I find myself wondering in the quiet hours, when no one is around and my only company is the night sky if reality truly is what it is. If maybe this is all just what I perceive it to be because I don’t know any other way. Wondering if maybe this is just a dream between dreams.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not crazy, at least I don’t think I am. But once again that falls down to a perception of a conceived reality that I exist in. Perhaps those we view as insane or crazy merely exist in a state between worlds, seeing through the veil that separates the world we see and feel and the one they themselves choose to exist in. That being the case do we actually choose to exist in our world?

For all I know the grass beneath me isn’t there, or more accurately isn’t a part of the world I am in. I can feel the breeze cool against me washing away the summer heat. I can see the sun rising to drive away the comfort of night. I can hear the birds greeting another beautiful day, but even with all my senses screaming at me that this is real, how can I be truly sure it is?

Every now and then I can feel its grip slipping, like I’m being drawn into somewhere, or something else. Even now my questing draws upon points that defy answers, if I can choose what world I exist in, why then do I choose this one? Surely there must be better worlds than this out there? And for that matter if I can choose what the world around me is, then what will happen if I was to suddenly change or leave it?

If I was to abandon the life I have now seeking a new world, would this cease to be? Would my previous life just end without memory of its existence in the first place or would it continue on without me in it? Would my family be left broken in my wake or just go on as though I was never there in the first place? If I remember this life would I want to go on knowing what I’ve given up just to entertain the idea that I can leave the reality I know?

Questions, always so many questions and ideas and never any answers. Even if I had the answers would they satisfy me? I doubt it. Answers may be what drives away doubt, but the question is what brings forth curiosity and thought. Without questions there can never be answers, some questions however should remain unanswered if only to provoke thoughts and discussion.

Sometimes it seems more like a curse than a talent, I would have never guessed when I was a foal that my special talent would be daydreaming. I was so very excited when I got my mark, as all youngsters are, I didn’t stop to think about what my life would be once I finally had it. Now my days are spent working as a writers assistant, bouncing ideas for her stories back and forth at all hours, each fueling the other on to new horizons. She would probably get a kick out of this one, if she didn’t think I was nuts.

Once again I find myself rambling well off my original topic, another annoying tendency of being a daydreamer. More often than not I begin with a simple concept and drift so far off that I cant find my way back to where I began.

It was reality if I remember right, the idea that there isn’t one true reality but only the one you make for yourself. Perhaps in that case we are all as gods, or maybe nothing actually exists in the first place. Maybe everything that is only exists because it wishes to and at any moment may choose not to anymore.

Furthermore if I could leave my world what’s to stop someone else from entering mine? Whose to say what they would look like, would they be pony like me? Maybe their world chose a different path, maybe they would be so unlike us even I cant dream them up. Maybe they are already here and we just don’t know it because they always have been.

Reality, dreams, thoughts and ideas, as far as I can tell anymore they may well be the same thing. They say when you dream you cant feel pain, that what happens there cant hurt you. For the most part that is true but a dream can still hurt. And if a dream can hurt that must mean that in a way it was real. If a dream can be in part real than reality in part can also be a dream. At what point do the two cross? When does the dream become the reality and vise versa? Do we even give notice? Does it truly matter at the end of the day if any of this is real or dream?

The ground gives easily beneath my hooves as I absently paw the dirt, a habit I often fall into when dreams overcome me. The sky has lit with the brilliant radiance of dawn fully breaking over the landscape painting warm hues across the azure sky. For long moments I drink in the warmth and peace of the world around me letting it soak into my coat and ease my weary mind. The birds have raised to a riotous clamor filling the valley with their songs, each subtle event cementing that this is real and driving my doubts further away.

A gentle smile graces my features as I take in the valley surrounding our cabin, Far enough out to ensure total serenity and privacy while we work on our novels. Soon she will awake and we will launch back into a world of our own creation, put forth for others to live in if only briefly. Maybe that’s the ultimate truth, perhaps everything that I know exists is just another story and we are all characters in it. Brought to life by the readers who shall themselves live it with us for a time. Id like to think that, to believe that was the case.

“Muse, come inside and have some breakfast” her sleep laden voice calls out snapping me from the brief reverie.

“Be right there Scribbles”

Slowly I push myself up, flexing the stiffness out of my joints from a long night lost in thought. Clouds of dust spiral from my jeans as I make my way back home, each brush of my arms looses another cloud to the breeze. A brief pause and a gentle thump has my boots resting patiently on the deck waiting for our next walk.

We share a smile and embrace, today’s going to be a rather nice day.

Author's Note

This is the the first thing I've tried to write in a long long time, I'm sure I've made numerous mistakes all throughout. I'd love any constructive criticism your willing to share as I'm not a writer myself but rather the muse of another. This was just a idea I had one morning after a night fraught with boredom and after many hours of thinking about it I figured it might make a interesting story. Thank you for reading and have a lovely day.