Sweden (part 1)

As it is in Heaven
The son was rising above the city. Rows of buildings stood there, motionless, while rays of light beamed over it and forced a new day to begin.
The city was bustling. People were everywhere. They were running around. Working buying working buying. They were reproducing. They were increasing their potentials. They were building new buildings. They were an enormous ant hive. Growing and growing and growing.
It was beautiful. The complex system, working by itself, self organizing itself. Every individual was but a part of a giant collective intelligence. An intelligence that was sending them into doom. Everyone knew but nobody really minded it.
He felt as if the beauty of the city was not touching him enough. It was as if another feeling was taking the better of him. He felt his energy drain out of him and lethargy took over. He had no idea. Where to belong. Where to go and what to do. Why to do anything? The collective was already doing so much. Why should he add something to it? If he wanted to add something to it, how could he be sure that it would be for the better? He felt that he was tired. What is life energy? I do not know. It is the opposite of tiredness. It is... energetic... probably... vitalic... full of life... fearless maybe. I don't know. I do not have it now.
It strange when you dream and you notice that there is a whole choir of voices, all of different persons, in your head, all of them asking you questions... all of them defining what you are seeing, hearing and experiencing... it is strange, is it not? But hey, a lady's voice suddenly asks, those voices, they never manage to make you smell anything... is it not?

And then Archibald woke up. He looked straight to ceiling of the small wooden house he was living in. A small wooden house near a lake in the middle of a calm and beautiful forest. It had been a strange dream and he had been having these dreams more often lately. As if he suddenly had the power to look through a window. A window which made you look straight into another world, another life... straight through the eyes of another person. Strange thing was that other person was no one but himself. But it was not himself at the same time. It was maybe another version of himself. Himself all over again. In a parallel universe, who knows.
There followed a short moment of silence in his mind. He had been training, probably without noticing it himself, to see those of silence in his mind. Not to see them. To notice them. He could sometimes hold them. But he knew that always when he tried to do so he would sneakily start to think again. Yet, he would only realize that he had started to do so, to think, when he was already thinking. About that pot of honey he had stolen from his neighbors yesterday. Borrowed. He was sure that the guy would say that it had been stolen.
Archibald decided not to continue lying around. 'Although, another thought from somewhere in the back of his brain told him, 'maybe if I do, I will experience another dream and find out what that first one was all about.'
But Archibald looked out of the window and he saw that the sun was shining. It was a very soft and white kind of light, which reminded him very much of Sweden somehow. It was so very very light and clear. He could not remain in bed. Or if he did so, he at least had to watch those sun rays. Then he also wanted to go outside, just to smell the air, the freshness of it and the cold. It was such a relief to be here. Why? He had forgotten why. He knew there had been a reason. A reason that had brought him here. He had sought this place. He had sought it for so very long. He had longed for it. And now he finally was here. But, he did not remember why he had come here. And that bothered him. For some reason he had the feeling that the strange dreams were some sort of key. They hid some sort of answer that was going to tell him, why and how and what.
But he also sensed a dark sort of energy behind it. To know why would maybe mean that some sort of quality of darkness would come to stay with him and would guide him through each day. But at least he would know then. And maybe he would be even more complete. Was he incomplete? He thought not. But he still sensed or at least imagined that it was so at the same time. Things were more than fine in his wonderful Swedish forest. Better than ever actually. But why ever. Where did that word "ever" come from? Why was he thinking it? It was some clue.
His mind was always looking for clues. Often he just wanted to shut it down. His brain. His thinking. So it would stop to think in clues and games and crossword puzzles and mysteries. He could go to sleep and hope that sweet nothingness would catch up with him. And it would. He always slept well. But when he woke up they would come back. The thoughts. Especially when his deep sleep waned and turned into light sleep. That was when the dreams would come.

"Hey, Ralf!" Timmy's voice sounded from somewhere in the back. He was probably somewhere at the lake. Maybe he had been fishing.
Archibald turned around and tried to peek through the window of his small cabin, but he could not see anything. He was looking straight in the milk-white sun-rays of the ever-during morning.
His cabin was very small. He loved it. Everything was within reach and it was simply impossible to own too much stuff. There was just no space to put it. He had his small kind of washing table, which he used both as a washbasin and as a place to do the dishes. It consisted of a small wooden tub where he would put water in. Water from the lake outside. It was so clean, completely transparent. Sometimes he would catch a small fish with it. Not on purpose. But there were just so many of them in the rivers and in the lakes. Life seamed to spring out of every corner of the forest. It was unstoppable and it filled Archibald with an enormous calm. It was as if nature was at peace, at if it was taking care of it self very well and so there was no reason why Archibald would ever worry. Things were looking great for him as well. There was more than enough to eat and the air was so sweet in his nose. Relief. This place was constant relief.
He remembered how he had been fishing with his neighbor yesterday. They had been sitting next to the almost completely transparent river, it was streaming slowly but steadily and only in the distance could one see a faint light blue of the reflection of the skies. There had been lots of fish, literally jumping out of the water. They had not even used their fishing rods, they had simply run along the river with their baskets and caught some that jumped out of the river. After that his neighbor quickly took them and slapped them to death on some of the stones along the river. In the evening they had cleaned the insides out of the fish and then they had roasted them on a small fire.
Archibald could not remember how long he and his neighbor had been neighbors. It had been for a long time. Today he decided that he would ask him. He turned away from the sun-flooded washtub, opened the small window while trying to fend the flight from his eyes with his right hand and then he called outside. "Hey man, you still there? Sorry, I was kind of lost in some thoughts but I definitely heard your voice. You're standing next to the raft?"
He waited patiently and listened. He heard the wind whisper through the trees and a storm of birds singing everywhere. What a noise those little birds were making compared to the softness of the wind.
"Yeah, I'm here alright. I just wanted to go fishing again. Got a little hungry. Still have a lot of cabbages lying around and also some carrots and other veggies... but you know, I thought, we could see if the river is that full of fish again... they tasted so good yesterday, simply amazing."
"Sure I'm in," Arnold said and then he waited a little. Why on earth has he just called me Ralf he thought? It was a name that sounded familiar to him. But it was clearly not his name. "So, I will just get my stuff. Second."
Arnold looked around and found his fishing rot and also a small net. The basked, made out of reeds was standing next to the door.
As he went outside he felt even more clearly what a nice and cold day it was. He had been lying very warmly under somde deerhides and thus had not noticed how fresh this morning actually was. He had probably warmed up the whole cabin with his own body-heat. Was that even possible? Obviously the glowing fire in the stove had also kept things warm. Probably that was the reason. He did not know why he thought such strange things.
Once he was outside he saw his neighbor standing next to the raft. The sun was shining. It was going to be just another fine day in the most beautiful country of the world. It had to be Sweden, he thought. But... he did not know actually. He knew that Sweden was a country. But he did not understand why he knew this. He did not know of any other countries. Why not?

Slowly they moved onward over the large lake. Slowly the water-ripples behind the raft disappeared into a large and unmovable plane of dark blue water. The lake was a lot deeper than the rivers they had been walking along yesterday.
The trees were mainly birch-trees, which made for a very interesting contrast between the dark blue lake and the white trees with small black stripes and spots. Their twigs were slander and elegant. The leaves seamed small and green. The sun was just as intense as before, shining a very light yellowish light. Birds were heard all around and even the sounds of jumping fish were heard or seen. They created small rippled pools in the water.
"I wonder if we can just catch the fish like yesterday. We got the baskets with us. We could just wait until they jump into the basket. Don't you think?" Timmy asked.
"I do think so," Archibald said and he felt astonished somehow. Although it had to be normal by now. He should have gotten used to the fact that life was so great over here, in Sweden.
"How long have we been living here?" Archibald asked. Timmy did not look up. He squatted down and was doing something with the basket.
"I wonder if we can actually just attach the basket to the sides of the raft and see if the fish will enter by themselves, who knows," Timmy said. He either did not want to think about Archibald's question or he had not heard him. Archibald assumed the later and repeated the same question, this time in a louder voice.
"Say Timmy," Archibald said, "any idea how long we have been neighbors?"
Timmy finally looked up at Archibald with a frown on his face. "You always ask those questions, and frankly, I find them unpleasant," he answered, then he turned away from Archibald and started to mess around with the baskets.
"I have the strange feeling, that I do not remember anything. I remember what we did yesterday. But what did we do the day before, do you remember Timmy?"
Timmy said nothing.
It was silent for a while and the raft drifted further, slowly turning around itself in the middle of the lake.
"I....," Timmy mumbled and then he became louder, saying: "I do not see why that should matter! Why should we remember everything?"
"Well, I did not want to make you upset Timmy. I am sorry, but it worries me a little and also, it actually fascinates me," Archibald said.
"Yeah. Well. There is nothing to worry about. Look at all the food. Look at our nice houses and for Gods sake, look at the nice weather! It's Sweden man!"
"Sweden? Like a country right?"
"Yeah, what else?"
"Do you know any other countries beside Sweden?"
Timmy kept silent and Archibald could not suppress a smile. Now he got him. Now he had proof that Timmy had forgotten about all the other countries as well.
"Well, there is... there are... there are many countries...." Timmy started to reply.
"Yeahhhh... I know that, Timmy. I am not entirely stupid," and Archibald grinned and then he laughed.
"Why are you laughing like that?!" Timmy replied. He was clearly getting annoyed. He did not like it when he was pulled out of his peace. And he had been at peace, alright. It had been almost a paradise here. And now Archibald started to annoy him with all those stories and all those annoying questions that made him worry. But why worry? Everything was good. No, it was perfect. It was more than perfect. It was like heaven here!
Suddenly Timmy's frown changed into amazement, his eyes and mouth suddenly stood wide open.
Archibald had to laugh. "What is it Timmy? You realize that you only know about one country amd no more? It is kind of funny right. Something is clearly... strange. I want to find out what is going on you see, I want to be a detective and find out about it."
Timmy looked at Archibald, his eyes still open wide. He tried to find words. "Heaven...."
"That is not a country Timmy," Archibald replied but he noticed that the word heaven did sound familiar to him. Yet he could not exactly recognize it. He felt that he had known that word before but it seemed as if he had forgotten about it a long long time ago.
"Do you think we maybe are in heaven Archibald?"
Archibald did not know how to answer that question. He looked at Timmy and said nothing.
"That could be it... there is a mystery about this place... you are right. I wonder... could we be in heaven....?"
Then Archibald knew how he had to react. "What does heaven mean Timmy, I forgot what the word meant. Can you tell me?"

Cold Reality
It was raining outside. He was sitting inside the "Sand Crawler". The "Sand Crawler" was a library, kind of. It was a giant and rather ugly building, build in the middle of an otherwise cute student city somewhere in Europe. The official name of the library was obviously not "Sand Crawler". More something like "The Public" or whatever, devoid of anything referring to the fact that it was a library, at least partly. It was only partly a library, because there also happened to be a museum, a cinema and a bar in the same building... He used to hate this place. But there simply wasn't any other place where he could sit and study. The old library had been destroyed. Destroyed by the people who wanted to make everything look like spaceships from Star Wars. Modern architecture. He wasn't sure whether he should be angry with them or actually have pity on them.
He imagined the architect of this useless modern building. It must have been a man in his mid 40ies. Midlife crisis. A way to expensive car. A way to expansive house. And that guy was hired by a group of entrepreneurs who wanted to make everything look flashy flashy... to earn money? Probably as well. To gain power? Some, maybe. But mainly because they wanted to be important.
Why did people want to be important? Here comes the sad thought he had developed lately: People wanted to be important because they wanted to be important for the people that were closest to them. For example their loved ones, like their wives or husbands and their children. Probably also their parents, very much so even. Their daddies were probably people who tried to make their children be as successful as possible. They wanted to be proud of their children and wanted their children to be proud on them. And on and on.
What a tragedy. It made him sad to think those thoughts. He wondered if Hitler had been like that. Or had he merely been insane? Had Hitler thought, I need to be successful, I need to change the world in a big way, so my loved ones finally start to love and accept me the way I want them to accept me? Imagine that. You see, in that case, a guy like Hitler would not even have needed to have a horrible childhood. No need for a child-rapist-father or whatever. No need. One only needed a dad who needed to be important. Important to his loved ones. And maybe also important to all people that he possibly wanted to become his loved ones. People in the public. The public. Nothing but an imagination in their small human dreams.

--- to read further check out "Sweden (part 2)" ---