Oh god! the expanse ahead is so deep and blue with a tinge of heat glowing off of the northern most horizon. The vast space keeps me fixed on finding one point. I will make it there. That far off pinnacle must be a mountain top. It might be days from here that I will trudge, dragging myself through the heat. Suddenly I have arrived. The time vanished and I have gone with it. The emaciated shadows of my formal self, my awake self, have scared me into submission. The first glimpse of myself as this other person. The dream ends here.
How do you describe the end of your life. The starvation for another being. The laying down as a mushroom cloud rushes furiously at you. To eat you whole. As you close your eyes this is called giving up. This is called death at its finest.
These are bits and pieces from the underworld. The bouncing of eyelids in my darkest and most human of places. Where I become the hunted, the shadow, the insecure, the dumped. Where I am my most violent of selves, a defender, a murderer, and a lover. These are my blurred visions of a vivid silence that go on each time I am weighted next to you.
Lets discuss the violence. The purest of my dreams are those in which I am battered and beaten. Bruised and wet with blood. I can not be killed. I can kill. These things must be ruined. My insides twisted and torn to know what it feels like to be chased and caught and captured. Running to only be tackled and brought to bear by the most evil of all beings over me and near me. Not a nightmare. Not a tremor. Just one voice that stops me from running, puts me into slow animation. Blurs my vision and fills me with regret and hatred. Then exits through the gun, or the knife or the blunt object around me. Any weapon to save me from this torture trip. I am not disturbed.
I woke and made some coffee.