dreamscape
03-18-2009, 05:02 AM
Thom Shipe rolled off Candy and wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. The moonlight sliced through the blinds and striated his naked body, lending an ethereal quality to the sweltering summer night. Thom felt his pleasure fading from his body, taking his energy with it as it fled his very pores, contriving to lower him into a pleasant, yet shallow, sleep.
Looking around Thom saw all his familiar possessions, the trappings of success. The perfect wife with whom he’d raised two perfect children in the last fifteen years of perfect marriage. The view over the bay through his high-rise apartment’s bedroom window. The ornaments and trinkets designed and acquired to make others jealous as much as aesthetically please oneself. All of this he had worked ever harder for the last twenty years to accumulate.
His business was business, and business was good. The money kept coming until he no longer knew what to do with it. Children educated, wife appeased, family looked after, Thom aimed now only to please himself. And oh, what a job he did of it. The most expensive places, the jewels, the drinks, the whores, what he couldn’t afford hadn’t yet been shown to him.
The supposedly endless question, what is life for? Thom thought he had solved the human condition: To seek pleasure. Pleasure in all its forms and guises.
Yet at these times when his pleasure was sated, he wondered where next to look. Of course he loved Candy, but at the same time he wanted to seek further, to push ever into the depths of delectation.
Drifting off to sleep Thom saw through his closed eyelids a growing light. Sometimes aircraft would pass close to the high rise buildings, their lights shining through the window as if to affirm his place among the heavens. He started when he realised there was no sound to accompany the light. With this realisation the light became brighter until he could almost feel a radiant heat.
Opening his eyes, Thom immediately recoiled at the brightness directly in front of him. At first he thought it was one of the boys with a torch but again he was struck by the silence. And it was silent. An almost palpable quiet suddenly wreathing the room.
Cracking open his eyes ever so slightly, slowly habituating to the brightness, Thom took in the surreal vision before him. A luminous globe floated just above his midriff, bobbing slightly like a buoy on the waves, and rhythmically pulsing brighter every few breaths like a heartbeat. There was no face but Thom felt a sentience radiating from the ball, an intelligence looking down on him from on high. He wanted to look around, but a mix of fear and awe kept his eyes glued to the centre of the bright.
Then it spoke. Or, rather, its voice came through his mind, echoing through his brain like a horn in a chamber. “You seek pleasure, Thom,” its rich tenor was pleasant to hear, yet somehow disturbing.
Thom was lost in his sensation when the sentient sphere spoke again, “There is much to be experienced through the mind, Thom, if one is willing to open it. Sensations beyond pleasure and pain, beyond what the material world can offer. It can drive a man mad, but your pleasure would be unequalled. Are you willing to open your mind, Thom?”
Thom said he was.
“Then close your eyes,” the voice exalted him. “Sleep Thom Shipe.”
Thom’s eyelids felt suddenly heavy again, and was drawn helplessly into darkness. He did not feel asleep, and opened his eyes. All was dark again, the silence still potent.
Open your mind, Thom.
Thom let his consciousness go, and was suddenly gripped with the most intense bodily sensation he had ever experienced. Beyond any drug he’d ever known, the buzzing rapture flowed all over him. He felt he was floating, could no longer feel the bed beneath him. The pleasure came on in waves, pulsing through his body from head to toe.
When Thom thought the pleasure was getting too much, when he thought he could take no more, the sounds began. At first a sweet, lulling music, building to a crescendo of majestic bliss. An entire orchestra was in the room with him, filling the darkness. Angelic voices playing over the symphony like crystal bells in an echo chamber.
And then Thom could see, and what sights to behold. Colours humans were not meant to perceive, wending and winding in and out across his vision, a sublime tapestry ever-changing. Sights to take his breath away, that he couldn’t bring back even in his mind, but whose beauty would ever echo in his soul. Tears of joy streamed down Thom’s cheeks.
Suddenly the pitch shifted. The pleasure enveloping his body began to burn, the sounds became discordant, and his vision became filled with stroboscopic paranoia. His pleasure gone now, Thom began to feel a tinge of fear as his skin felt it was blistering. Hooks entering his flesh, tearing and scraping at flesh and bone, he felt as though he was being torn apart.
The voices became screams, though Thom had not the energy to match them with his own. Fear and pain constricted his throat. Tears of pleasure became tears of pain.
Dark shapes were coursing towards him, figures from his darkest imagination and beyond, tooth and claw to rip and tear. His head was spinning and he felt nauseous, sweat was soaking his skin, or was it blood? Bones were breaking and mending, to break again. The cacophony of sight, sound and touch were melding with the taste and smell of his fear, sweat and vomit.
Thom swallowed down his fear and pain, though he feared he would die, and screamed.
And screamed.
Then all was silent. All feeling was gone. He was alive, and back in his room.
There was a light. Thom recoiled in fear, recognising it as that of his recent benefactor.
“No more,” he said, shivering.
“It is said,” the voice caressed his mind, “that happiness is found in the appreciation of what one already has.”
“Just give me back what I had, I want to be happy with that again,” Thom said.
“Such lessons are not easily learned, Thom.”
Thom nodded, closing his eyes.
“Then awaken, Thom Shipe.”
He opened his eyes. He was back in his bedroom, moonlight flooding in through the blind, the sounds of the city at night, far below, more reassuring than ever. He turned his head to see if Candy was awake. She was not there.
He shot up, throwing aside his sheets and turning on the light. “Candy!” he called. No answer. He ran through the apartment opening doors, he checked the boys’ room. They were gone, too. He went back out to the kitchen and sat down, head in his hands to think.
Looking up he saw the boys sitting across from him, cheerfully eating breakfast and looking past him at the morning cartoons. A sound from the kitchen, and Thom turned to see Candy approaching with two cups of coffee. His relief was overwhelming, he embraced as she came near, holding as tight as he could.
“What’s the matter, honey?” she asked, but he couldn’t answer. He just wanted to be with her. Closing his eyes he felt his relief drain his resistance as his memory of the night visions came flooding back.
He lifted his head and looked at the window. When had it become day? He looked back and the boys were gone. Candy turned and walked away, and as he reached for her, she faded to nothing.
Thom began to panic. Pictures were disappearing off the walls, heirlooms and antiques melting into nothingness. Spectral remnants of his life were fading out of existence all around him.
He ran through the apartment, the lounge was empty. His bedroom was empty, the bed itself dissolving into the floor. He backed out of the room, shaking, and went to the boys’ room.
Much younger, the boys sat on the mat with Candy, playing a game. As he watched, the scene felt unreal, he waited expecting them to disappear. The three smiling heads turned toward him in the doorway, smiles slowly fading. He met Candy’s sad eyes, a tear rolling down his cheek as his family ghosted away to nothing.
Stepping back stutteringly, Thom stumbled through the house, holding on to the wall as we went, fearing they too would disappear around him. He wanted to wake from this nightmare. Everywhere he looked, now, images of his life were passing in and out of existence. Happy times and bad, all the things he had earned, all he had loved.
In the kitchen he picked up a knife, wanting to end it, to end the pain. Reversing it, he closed his eyes. Thom felt the handle crumble to dust. He opened his eyes again, seeing through tears his world fold around him.
Thom made his way to the balcony doors, threw them open. He stepped up onto the railing, which cracked and crumbled beneath him, the wind gusting about him as he plummeted.
A corner of his mind felt a stab of pleasure as he watched the city lights rush past, the moon reflecting over the bay, a beauty he had never before noticed.
Candy awoke to the distant sound of sirens below. The bed beside her was cold.
Looking around Thom saw all his familiar possessions, the trappings of success. The perfect wife with whom he’d raised two perfect children in the last fifteen years of perfect marriage. The view over the bay through his high-rise apartment’s bedroom window. The ornaments and trinkets designed and acquired to make others jealous as much as aesthetically please oneself. All of this he had worked ever harder for the last twenty years to accumulate.
His business was business, and business was good. The money kept coming until he no longer knew what to do with it. Children educated, wife appeased, family looked after, Thom aimed now only to please himself. And oh, what a job he did of it. The most expensive places, the jewels, the drinks, the whores, what he couldn’t afford hadn’t yet been shown to him.
The supposedly endless question, what is life for? Thom thought he had solved the human condition: To seek pleasure. Pleasure in all its forms and guises.
Yet at these times when his pleasure was sated, he wondered where next to look. Of course he loved Candy, but at the same time he wanted to seek further, to push ever into the depths of delectation.
Drifting off to sleep Thom saw through his closed eyelids a growing light. Sometimes aircraft would pass close to the high rise buildings, their lights shining through the window as if to affirm his place among the heavens. He started when he realised there was no sound to accompany the light. With this realisation the light became brighter until he could almost feel a radiant heat.
Opening his eyes, Thom immediately recoiled at the brightness directly in front of him. At first he thought it was one of the boys with a torch but again he was struck by the silence. And it was silent. An almost palpable quiet suddenly wreathing the room.
Cracking open his eyes ever so slightly, slowly habituating to the brightness, Thom took in the surreal vision before him. A luminous globe floated just above his midriff, bobbing slightly like a buoy on the waves, and rhythmically pulsing brighter every few breaths like a heartbeat. There was no face but Thom felt a sentience radiating from the ball, an intelligence looking down on him from on high. He wanted to look around, but a mix of fear and awe kept his eyes glued to the centre of the bright.
Then it spoke. Or, rather, its voice came through his mind, echoing through his brain like a horn in a chamber. “You seek pleasure, Thom,” its rich tenor was pleasant to hear, yet somehow disturbing.
Thom was lost in his sensation when the sentient sphere spoke again, “There is much to be experienced through the mind, Thom, if one is willing to open it. Sensations beyond pleasure and pain, beyond what the material world can offer. It can drive a man mad, but your pleasure would be unequalled. Are you willing to open your mind, Thom?”
Thom said he was.
“Then close your eyes,” the voice exalted him. “Sleep Thom Shipe.”
Thom’s eyelids felt suddenly heavy again, and was drawn helplessly into darkness. He did not feel asleep, and opened his eyes. All was dark again, the silence still potent.
Open your mind, Thom.
Thom let his consciousness go, and was suddenly gripped with the most intense bodily sensation he had ever experienced. Beyond any drug he’d ever known, the buzzing rapture flowed all over him. He felt he was floating, could no longer feel the bed beneath him. The pleasure came on in waves, pulsing through his body from head to toe.
When Thom thought the pleasure was getting too much, when he thought he could take no more, the sounds began. At first a sweet, lulling music, building to a crescendo of majestic bliss. An entire orchestra was in the room with him, filling the darkness. Angelic voices playing over the symphony like crystal bells in an echo chamber.
And then Thom could see, and what sights to behold. Colours humans were not meant to perceive, wending and winding in and out across his vision, a sublime tapestry ever-changing. Sights to take his breath away, that he couldn’t bring back even in his mind, but whose beauty would ever echo in his soul. Tears of joy streamed down Thom’s cheeks.
Suddenly the pitch shifted. The pleasure enveloping his body began to burn, the sounds became discordant, and his vision became filled with stroboscopic paranoia. His pleasure gone now, Thom began to feel a tinge of fear as his skin felt it was blistering. Hooks entering his flesh, tearing and scraping at flesh and bone, he felt as though he was being torn apart.
The voices became screams, though Thom had not the energy to match them with his own. Fear and pain constricted his throat. Tears of pleasure became tears of pain.
Dark shapes were coursing towards him, figures from his darkest imagination and beyond, tooth and claw to rip and tear. His head was spinning and he felt nauseous, sweat was soaking his skin, or was it blood? Bones were breaking and mending, to break again. The cacophony of sight, sound and touch were melding with the taste and smell of his fear, sweat and vomit.
Thom swallowed down his fear and pain, though he feared he would die, and screamed.
And screamed.
Then all was silent. All feeling was gone. He was alive, and back in his room.
There was a light. Thom recoiled in fear, recognising it as that of his recent benefactor.
“No more,” he said, shivering.
“It is said,” the voice caressed his mind, “that happiness is found in the appreciation of what one already has.”
“Just give me back what I had, I want to be happy with that again,” Thom said.
“Such lessons are not easily learned, Thom.”
Thom nodded, closing his eyes.
“Then awaken, Thom Shipe.”
He opened his eyes. He was back in his bedroom, moonlight flooding in through the blind, the sounds of the city at night, far below, more reassuring than ever. He turned his head to see if Candy was awake. She was not there.
He shot up, throwing aside his sheets and turning on the light. “Candy!” he called. No answer. He ran through the apartment opening doors, he checked the boys’ room. They were gone, too. He went back out to the kitchen and sat down, head in his hands to think.
Looking up he saw the boys sitting across from him, cheerfully eating breakfast and looking past him at the morning cartoons. A sound from the kitchen, and Thom turned to see Candy approaching with two cups of coffee. His relief was overwhelming, he embraced as she came near, holding as tight as he could.
“What’s the matter, honey?” she asked, but he couldn’t answer. He just wanted to be with her. Closing his eyes he felt his relief drain his resistance as his memory of the night visions came flooding back.
He lifted his head and looked at the window. When had it become day? He looked back and the boys were gone. Candy turned and walked away, and as he reached for her, she faded to nothing.
Thom began to panic. Pictures were disappearing off the walls, heirlooms and antiques melting into nothingness. Spectral remnants of his life were fading out of existence all around him.
He ran through the apartment, the lounge was empty. His bedroom was empty, the bed itself dissolving into the floor. He backed out of the room, shaking, and went to the boys’ room.
Much younger, the boys sat on the mat with Candy, playing a game. As he watched, the scene felt unreal, he waited expecting them to disappear. The three smiling heads turned toward him in the doorway, smiles slowly fading. He met Candy’s sad eyes, a tear rolling down his cheek as his family ghosted away to nothing.
Stepping back stutteringly, Thom stumbled through the house, holding on to the wall as we went, fearing they too would disappear around him. He wanted to wake from this nightmare. Everywhere he looked, now, images of his life were passing in and out of existence. Happy times and bad, all the things he had earned, all he had loved.
In the kitchen he picked up a knife, wanting to end it, to end the pain. Reversing it, he closed his eyes. Thom felt the handle crumble to dust. He opened his eyes again, seeing through tears his world fold around him.
Thom made his way to the balcony doors, threw them open. He stepped up onto the railing, which cracked and crumbled beneath him, the wind gusting about him as he plummeted.
A corner of his mind felt a stab of pleasure as he watched the city lights rush past, the moon reflecting over the bay, a beauty he had never before noticed.
Candy awoke to the distant sound of sirens below. The bed beside her was cold.