Simo
02-05-2009, 11:20 PM
By Paul Perin-Symons
A thick muggy night in the summer of 1988 had me restlessly twisting amongst my knotted sheets.
At around 2 AM, I went under; I say under because to say I fell asleep would not be an accurate description.
I was now in a world that was becoming uncomfortably familiar. Fear and apprehension filled the air.
This was a very dark place, but not because it had insufficient lighting.
Two skeletons leered at me from the foot of my bed; their thin white bones gave a false impression of their strength.
In this plane, strength could be drawn into the physical frame from a psychological source, the power that these two specters contained was undeniable.
They plucked me off the bed as though I were a piece of lint, and spun and tossed me around as they took me into my lounge room to face their leader, my judge, and executioner.
The loathsome monster hissed at me with a booming sarcastic laugh so loud that my ribcage rattled. The door splintered and the windows popped, showering me with thousands of stinging shards of glass.
The evil hatred that hung in the air was as dense as gritty liquid.
Death would have been the only relief possible, but on this plain death was not possible; how does a lifeless entity die?
Time stops, motion merges, all that was, is no longer. The dreamer has awoken.
To know that this darkness drips and hangs unseen, just beyond the point of consciousness, makes it no less real than if it were set in marble at the foot of the bed.
Its disturbing impact lingers.
In daylight the immature or distracted may inwardly be aware of the uncomfortable depth of this place, however in sunlight, with the day’s events happening all around, it becomes almost simple to deny its existence.
In my mind, this place will always be real, weather it’s within me or across the cosmos, I can’t deny its existence.
And I know, the monster is me.
Copyright 1995
A thick muggy night in the summer of 1988 had me restlessly twisting amongst my knotted sheets.
At around 2 AM, I went under; I say under because to say I fell asleep would not be an accurate description.
I was now in a world that was becoming uncomfortably familiar. Fear and apprehension filled the air.
This was a very dark place, but not because it had insufficient lighting.
Two skeletons leered at me from the foot of my bed; their thin white bones gave a false impression of their strength.
In this plane, strength could be drawn into the physical frame from a psychological source, the power that these two specters contained was undeniable.
They plucked me off the bed as though I were a piece of lint, and spun and tossed me around as they took me into my lounge room to face their leader, my judge, and executioner.
The loathsome monster hissed at me with a booming sarcastic laugh so loud that my ribcage rattled. The door splintered and the windows popped, showering me with thousands of stinging shards of glass.
The evil hatred that hung in the air was as dense as gritty liquid.
Death would have been the only relief possible, but on this plain death was not possible; how does a lifeless entity die?
Time stops, motion merges, all that was, is no longer. The dreamer has awoken.
To know that this darkness drips and hangs unseen, just beyond the point of consciousness, makes it no less real than if it were set in marble at the foot of the bed.
Its disturbing impact lingers.
In daylight the immature or distracted may inwardly be aware of the uncomfortable depth of this place, however in sunlight, with the day’s events happening all around, it becomes almost simple to deny its existence.
In my mind, this place will always be real, weather it’s within me or across the cosmos, I can’t deny its existence.
And I know, the monster is me.
Copyright 1995