Karmatic Fiction

By Benjamin Atwell

About the Book
Karmatic Fiction follows the life of college-student Ricky as he deciphers life’s mysteries through philosophy and physics.

About the Author
Benjamin Atwell attended Edinboro University for philosophy and pre-law. Though he failed to obtain a degree from the university, when the opportunity to submit a brief explanation of philosophical addendum to Yale and receive a philosopher’s pin presented itself, he was quick to jump on the opportunity.
In his free time, Atwell enjoys being with his family and playing guitar.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dorrance Publishing Company
• Release date: Mar 31, 2023
• ISBN: 9798886048575

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

I awoke next to her in a cluttered college dorm room. I awoke from a dream with a blue light. I was reaching for her energy was beginning in her vibe. As I looked to her, I looked to the right of the bed with silk sheets. She, asleep, pulled away from me. There was something in that dream to stay away from. She woke up, and I was sitting on the bed thinking.

She asked, Did you dream?

I said, Yes.

She said in a low voice, "Now you know."

Walking to class, the leaves fell from the trees. There was something about trees losing their leaves; it was the opposite of how the grass eats. I guess it is so the sun hides behind the colors of the fall escape of the trees. I stopped at a coffee shop and picked up a cup of coffee as a man played guitar outside.

I stopped at my philosophy class, and my professor greeted me with, Why are you late Ricky?

I said, I was waiting for a cup of coffee and thinking of an excuse of why to be.

Professor Lock said, You’re not very smart, and then laughed.

I sat in the classroom and learned about existentialism.

I am the self which I will be in the mode of not being it.

– Sartra

I turned in my paper: Does a tree makes a sound in the woods if nobody is around to hear it? If the tree fell, particles in the air moved, creating sound waves. It did not make a sound if there were no ears to convert it.

I went back to my dorm, smoked a cigarette on the way kicking up the leaves on the sidewalk—red, orange, and yellow. The scent of their retire filled the air. I put out my cigarette, passing two gentlemen, and referred to the ashtray: That’s a good maid.

I went to my dorm, and my roommate Jason was there. I walked in, and he said, So, you hook up with that girl last night?

I said, I had a dream about her. I cannot talk about it.

Jason and I played a game of chess and studied, cramming the evening away with pot after pot of coffee; reading and reading, hoping the material was gathered right to associate the information to something else for memorization.

So, if sociology is about a group, and psychology is about the individual—separately the Har, of paying attention to inquisitive thought—love the aspect of wisdom, as a philosophy in itself. Abstract thinking—basically, finding we through not being ourselves and a dimension in classic literature corresponding… If a tree falls in the winter, does the snow melt?

We go through life wondering and questioning, in our spare time doing monatomic activity not knowing what anything is when were born, and our parents teach us disbelief of with the reach of reality. Somewhere along the way, this questioning and abstraction forms, things that happen in dimension of what is normal, for anything that happens—for it to happen must seem normal; to be present to exist. Going through life believing there is not a special one, that is to naturally believe your lives together. But what if the one is not the same as your soulmate? If one half of high school students leave town off to college—bigger cities elsewhere—what have you? You are looking for the person of your dreams; you have one-half a chance to find someone in town.

You’re supposed to be with your soulmate, share, experience, and go through life together then grow together. The girl I stayed within in the introduction was basically out of some designer fantasy, almost an angel with a bookmark in life. What was said, I have a feeling would be discovered later. Talks of Lilith being cast into the Lake of Fire and Adam and Eve breaking the Law of the Tree of Knowledge. God or the absence of recurring led to their failure.

What about the Tree of Knowledge? Not many know the consistency of the world, but knowledge is what is to be forgotten in its own name as well as, in the Garden of Eden, the Tree of Life.

My middle name is Everett. Once I told a girl my name; an educated guess would be I’m named after Genesis and Adam and Eve. Everett = Eve, or Et. Et is old English for eat, and Eve as the girl I play the scenario. I have always been a romantic, and this girl, Kelsey—my dream girl—is bearing the knowledge in forbidden love as an oracle to direct my path in a life she wouldn’t follow. I was reaching for something—a blue dimension in my dream, and something told her not to follow, pulling her away.

So there I sat as hungry as a ghost seeking knowledge. The knowledge is what I seek, and therefore, she left. I dreamed of her a little lighter in my understanding, enlightenment being processed through stages in my life. Maybe I’n confusing my love for Kelsey as a despairing marketing in my life, and all I need is her.

The doom in my life awaited with an angel’s warning of some decision in my life I don’t understand. Maybe it was nothing. But she was gone. It’d been a week looking back, and an epiphany of my memory of that she said after awaking—"Now you know."—one Kelsey maybe the instance of knowledge is achieved ate or et in Everett, as a philosopher can my name be the presumption of my reality. I dream of her in the same stark madness.

In the library, I rummaged through old philosophy books. I desire universal knowledge that reflects my own physics abstracts; analogs of nothing but fact-based assumption. Browsing around, coming across a quote, I went to Kelsey’s dorm room, thinking the whole way there about things we perceive to be true to the best of our ability. How can someone say the force of intellect beyond the lives we have is preserving from senses (touch, taste, hear, and smell), then the brain functions to comprehend sensory encoding…synapses thresholds of the hippocampus, cerebellum, and the rest, trying to make sense for dimension in the world how to judge her dimension from a whole other being, from a different party, becoming aware of ourselves.

If we are just reading dimension or taking into consideration of perception we take as reality. The seven holes in my head are stipulating aspects, and these life forms act as if somebody can opinionate the right to lock up for sport for the cause that needs a phycologist, completion of the individual, or a bed that needs filled…

I arrived at the dorm room wondering whether she was home. Outside her dorm room, I left some roses and a note that had attached a quote:

To love the earth as the moon loves her, and to touch her beauty only with my eyes and this is what the immaculate perception of all things shall mean to me: that I want nothing from them except to be allowed to lie prostrate Before them like a mirror with a hundred eyes.

– Nietzsche

Walking home looking at the sky and the moon, the trees and stars, the scenery was so surreal. I looked at consciousness if prefrail. The charting of art on canvas is a realization of the unity with a man’s painting. When you’re done, it’s like a child as the color and shapes grow to a replica of original life. In my life, there is a correlation to Leonardo da Vinci’s religious tale in his paintings and original sin compared with the mysticism in knowledge that the relationship with her and our deportation due to the mystery that is fathoming in my life. It was a warning, this dream world. The tree of life branching out, each leaf representing a different girl a different path in life, with the question having our paths crossed and left and meant a stray. I dreamed of her all night…or at least, the dream went on for a long time, with either the Tree of Knowledge or the Tree of Life, repeating between the two. Do not eat the apple. Don’t eat the apple. And before I woke up, I noticed Kelsey on the other side of the tree, and the dream was over.

I was first in my sociology class. I started thinking how incomplete a paper on wisdom was the professor provided, despite the regurgitation of material. I wrote some quick notes: a previous notion of passed deception of experience or perception of the character fails, effecting a relationship versus the perception of circumstance these being drawn back into viewpoint… Our personalities are changing. We grow, as you may witness. It starts your senior year of high school. As you change, that consists of you finding yourself, the stigma of inability to conform to society and those around us, and the self-aware growth in personality tracts of being Libertarian; a student taking place seems better understood.

It is not only a change on the inside but shown through those around us to direct this occurrence of the self, the soul, the brain, etc., in the functioning of wisdom. How do these situations effect the ratio of the ones that move away from to elsewhere, and are the middle-aged still searching for their soulmates?

You’ll make new friends the way you view yourself and those around you in your life up to your middle-age crisis, where you grew in the point of looking back and wishing you would move to California. Common phrases manifest and spread in different locations, just like a century in time. It’s comparably so if you move down south long enough, you may have an accent, when you come back.

Common knowledge we hear and recognize as past knowledge. The way we appear to ourselves is not the same other view. Comparable to cross referencing in a story that you tell someone, and they misinterpret you talking about them. It is common and when your good at at you can reference with your intention being understood.

I don’t know if Kelsey and I will cross paths on an intellectual basis, or whatever she meant, and what this advisement was I cast down from Nirvana. I dreamt of her while next to her, reaching for something…something to complete me. The secret was the mystery that kept us together that night and the thought of just making her happy. But its over, this blue mirage that follows me; yet a notion of completion was keeping me from her.

Some people write poetry. Others buy jewelry, go to the movies, raise children, or get married. I am phobic of the reason she left. It comes to me while I’m dreaming, and each time I fail takes me away from her, which moves closer to our separation. I rarely sleep an anymore; the importance of on my studies is large. Is there a correlation between Kama Sutra and the act of wanting love, sex, and romance? So I moved from a small town 30 percent closer to moving to or from my soulmate versus the other cities where they’re avoiding sentimental names of honey, baby, sweety, and lovey, and focus on a relationship that works, and you just have fun with the person the act of changing the person, universally explained by a linear thought to exactly convey a thought that we can only perceive life though the abilities already given. I start a dream with my dream girl trying to speak on lovers’ quarrels; she warns me, If you use it—if you gather, this is your number. Locked away from my love, always searching for her…then it occurred to me that’s what’s going on now.

Here I am, looking for the one person I can transfer from several leaves, transfer things in life to be grateful for, and you know it is because of them. It is so that you are fashioned to believe in this relationship, never dreaming of better outside the relationship because you know. With Kelsey, I needed her to be on a different level of understanding, a knowledge pieced together that again together, for whatever reference of a small or large version of dimension—read, processed, and encoded. That person is of linking everything back to her and nothing at all defining anything but nothing itself. So meanwhile, you experience it with this one person.

Why was I siting in my dorm room ruminating of a part of life that is unforeseen? What I had was everything that made sense in one category of another accruing the time: this a dimension of nothing better and everything to be with her.

I left my dorm room and decided to get out for a while, then went to the frat party. I ate a piece of pie and was paid for at the door. There were 40 or 50 people there. There were gorgeous girls in togas. The bar was available to my own demise, although it was an occasion everyone was celebrating. Pay at the door for all the cheap beer you can drink and two dollars a shot of liquor.

There was much that happed as the sutra of drunken ramble, but I did not play beer pong. I went out back and sat down on the steps. A girl was leaning on the post. Smoking a cigarette, a man bumped into me. I did not spill my beer. The cute redhead came over. Why the redhead? Because the blond left me; a one-night stand for warmth just the curse of departure. The girl sat down and said she was from a sister school from the city. This girl was received and from the city and had a mysterious vibe.

Hello, I’m Camilla. What’s your name?

Ricky. Nice to meet you.

At this time, I noticed an artifact of some medal work on her necklace.

I said, Is that the Tree of Life? She was wearing brown moccasins and a toga tied at both shoulders.

She answered my question, Oh, my necklace. It’s some sort of that in a work, a guide of weary notion.

I almost realized some discovery listed in the midst of the meeting. I asked, What’s your major?

She replied, Anthropology. And some social science.

I replied to the girl, I’m majoring in philosophy.

Okay, the knowledge of love—there is this a correlation of angels making a sure circumstance leads into theory. She said, I have a question. When you’re writing a paper, and the first book is like the third representing it and then the second book is like the fourth and the fifth book declares the others to be unresearched or belonging to fashions’ belief…

Camilla and I went on like this for some time, deciphering analytics. I said, Do you want another beer?

Camilla responded, Sure Ricky.

So Ricky went in to get two more beers, and in the collaboration with the interjection of peace, in a way, he was thinking about Camilla necklace. The meaning that Ricky came to realize was that Camilla was on the back porch. They were both drunk and on a drunken ramble. A dope influence conversation can be reached in a philosophy class of a sort of sub-congealed subjects, like the collaborated meaning into itself of itself of unmeaningful ability of its own meaning in itself. Camilla jeered the conversation of dimensions of underworlds and the consistence of large amounts of knowledge represented with a small version of pleasing together on a large scale; a key.

There for making sense and informing an amount in one basic sequence, I replied, Information conglomerating; a key to put an abstract in to view.

Camilla said, So what have you been reading lately?

I replied, I’m going for my doctorate. I do not read; I memorize. Camilla, well, can I have your cell phone number?

Sure, she responded.

Camilla, it was nice meeting you. I read the number off of the paper and showed his interest in her.

A conclusion of a new horizon.

I had $10 in my pocket and bought a cup of coffee,