A humble spider in a garden

There once was a spider who lived in a garden. There was nothing special about this spider, she was a fairly average sized garden spider, the kind with the large thorax for producing silk. The garden too was fairly generic being as it was medium in size and length. One feature of it that made it stand out was a small shed in the far corner. This shed was overgrown and damaged and it was on the side of this shed that our spider lived.

Our spider built webs. That was her task. Everyday she built a new web to catch her food now she could have built a big web however the bigger the web the harder it was to maintain. Plus large webs required a lot of silk and this was exhausting for the spider to produce. Even though she had considered that she could catch more flies if she made a  bigger web but what would she do with more flies, it was not like she could have stored them very easily. Besides her normal web caught her enough flies to comfortably survive and took her enough time to maintain so this was the size she made.

This was the spider's life for quite sometime and never did she try to move, for other areas were the domain of different spiders. Of course she had to defend her territory that is true, but she never sought to take someone else's territory. Why should she? Her area fed her and kept her healthy enough also she never tried to spread out and make more than one web as again what would this serve her? More webs meant more time repairing and rebuilding. that all would cost her energy and as we have said she couldn't store food for too long.  Besides storing food would make other spiders take more of an interest in her and she liked her lower profile.

It is also worth noting that she never minded rebuilding her web every morning. Yes it was a chore but it was part of her life, the thing that she did. She did not blame anyone or the weather for having to do this she just got on with her task and went about her life.

Eventually however, change came to the spider. For it is a true part of life that a status-quo never exists for too long without it being altered. In this case the owner of the garden decided to remove the shed our spider lived on. She sat for a while observing as the old shed was gradually cleared of the ruined gardening equipment which was kept within it. Of course the spider did not know what a petrol lawnmower was to start with so she definitely would not have recognized the rusted apparatus which was gradually inched through the small doorway to be thrown out. The spider did no try to scuttle away and hide. Instead she sat in the middle of her web and watched. Just as someone might lie on the ground to watch clouds float by in that slightly interested, unable to affect the outcome and curious as to what really might be going on kind of way.

Soon the gardener came to clear down the outside of the shed and remove the glass windows. The gardener was by and large a kind gardener and so all manner of insects and creatures were moved from the shed to the trees which lined the back of the garden. Our spider, and several of her neighbours, were among the invertebrate refuges who were re-homed in this way. This was an interesting experience for the spider as it was the first time in a long time that she had been moved from her home. It was strange to once again be on a tree rather than the windowsill of a shed and it was unusual to have to build a web around the branches of a tree instead of across a sheet of glass.

But these were mere musings of the spider. She did not try to return to the shed, which would have been folly as it was quickly being dismantled and she did not shake one of her legs at the gardener who had moved her for disrupting her life, after all she was still alive and able to hunt and eat. She certainly did not consider the power of the giant gardener who had moved her, in fact by all rights it would have been understandable had the spider considered the person some form of benevolent spider god. A being with the power to move her and make her feel insignificant. A being who had bestowed life upon her rather than death which they, in her mind at least, could easily have dealt. This being which was more powerful, mysterious and alien to look at was out of the comprehension league of our small spider as many things are to us simple humans. There were questions that could have been asked of course. Questions like what did the being want with the shed? Why were they suddenly so interested in this area? Why had they saved her? Did the spider someone fit a larger purpose in life? Was this area of the garden more in tune with the spider and the spider god being had decided it was to be hers and hers alone? Were other spiders 'selected' to be saved as she was? Or should she spread the word about the giant all powerful spider gods?

But these were not the questions of our small garden spider.

Instead she built herself a web.

She settled into the middle of the web.

And she waited to catch her prey.

Content with her life.

Because she was, after all just a humble spider in a garden.

Death is just a dream within a dream

"I do not fear my end" said the old man on the bed, "it isn't really an end."

He cleared his throat and struggled to sit. His emaciated body seemed to fail him as a friend moved to lift him. The old man waved him away and after what seemed an eternity finally pushed himself into a seated position. His breathing became smoother, less ragged and forced. He motioned to a cup of water just out of his reach and his friend passed it carefully to him. He smiled, his friend had not left his side in three days, at least not to the old mans mind, in fairness the old man did not know how awake he had been in those three days. His dreams though, and he smiled at the thought, his dreams had been the most vivid he had experienced in a long time. It was this that gave him a feeling of peace, it was this that had made up his mind.

Looking up he scanned the loved ones and relatives and well wishers in the room. Cruelly he wondered how many of them were vultures, waiting to see who had what left to them in his will. He feigned a smile though he wondered how sinister it might look considering how badly his body had wasted away with his current, last illness.

"Dreams" he said the room silent, "dreams can feel so real at times. I have had dreams that seem to only last a minute or two and yet I have been asleep for hours. I have had other dreams that in a ten minute nap have felt like years. All those dreams, the ones I remember, felt real at the time."

"Did you not realise you were dreaming at any point?" Interrupted one of those younger vulture/relatives. The old man leveled a withering scowl in the direction of the speaker although it was probably missed be the arrogance of the lad in question.

"Yes, but then how many times have you stopped in the street and thought to yourself 'I'm too stupid to still be alive I must be asleep', eh?" replied the old man pleased to see the young lad start to blush.

He moved his head slightly to look around the room. His bedroom was large and well furnished, deep dark wood and rich fabrics. All of this was fitting a man of his wealth and status.

"I know now that this life is just one life of many lives, that my death here will put me in a body in another life and in another place. This material wealth and you, you friends and loved ones will not be there. Maybe some of you will but you won't know it. Same I suppose as I won't know it."

The faces in front of him became a mix of confusion and boredom. It was amusing he supposed. Only his friend to his right smiled understanding at what was being said. He knew what was coming.

"You see life isn't one arrow from point A to B. If it was then what creates life? Humans and animals reproduce but life, the essence of life, can't be created. It's like energy but it isn't. We can't turn fire into life as similar as they may seem to an ancient civilization. No life has to be something more complex. Maybe something so complex that we mere humans can't understand it. Nonetheless I think I have an inkling. Imagine that what makes you is tied to you. Your essence, maybe a soul maybe not, but instead of it being heaven or hell. Or true reincarnation for that matter. Maybe all forms of life or reality are dreams. Existing at the same time, concurrently, running parallel to each other."

At this the old man began to get excited and his eyes shone. His friend placed a calming hand on his shoulder. The old man looked at his friend for years and smiled before looking back at the ensemble in the room.

"When we dream we drift to another world, another life. But that life is our life. That's why we can drift into it. We are not one person, we are multiple, we are legion. Spread out among the multitude we exist in various forms, sexes and ages. In different states of wealth and poverty. Intellectual and dullard, thief and police we are infinite and still nothing. Death is just the closing of one of those dreams and the potential opening of thousands more."

He smiled, ready to deliver his final words.

"It is for this reason, as you and I and none of us will need any of this." he waved his arms around the room "not really I mean. That I have cut all of your from my will. Life is a dream, this was my dream and I don't wish to share."

There was a stunned silence in the room as the old man began to laugh. A chesty, boney laugh that sounded more like someone blowing sawdust off a work bench. The sound grew in volume, rasping through the stunned silence of the assembled family and friends in the large expensive looking bedroom that none of them would own. Some began to leave the room as their reason for visiting, to show face, was now taken from them by this powerful old man who had lost the plot at his final hurdle.

The laugh began to become strained, slowly it lessened and weakened. With his eyes still glazed and a smile on his face the old man passed on.

The solemn friend leaned in and with great care gently closed his eyes allowing the old man to continue dreaming.