Where am I?

Is this headspace a universe of its own, a collective space, a darkness I can’t see? Oh no there are terrible things warped and unimaginable, who am I?

Large scale things, so fucking big, unspeakable things. How do I even start? Don’t share, don’t care, be a timebomb, I’m so shocked.

I’m in a school, maybe Austin maybe not, it’s a blue space dark and black but dark blue. There I’m walking, corner, twisted corridor, like Garcia’s round corridor, but more elliptical, there’s something coming over me, internally, a sickness, I fall over nauseous to my knees there’s nothing but the pain the insuperable pain it consumes me and I’m left stranded on this lonely blue blue island, Where am I? For a second. But I know, I’m here on this cold blue linoleum floor and I’m drooling and people are inquiring, but no one stops. Here come the figures. Ms. Collins is the first to approach me, I feel a familial warmth, is this because of her concern over my phone the other day? Am I that desperate for connection? Does that indicate a lack of filial love? Specifically mother-son love? I don’t know. Next indication I see Trey of course passing buy with textbook in hand, no sign of care, loss, abandoned. But I have Ms. Collins. The rest of my family, all the aunts and uncles, grandma and grandpas, but I can’t see their faces, they’re just shadows in the blue darkness of this highschool corridor. Passing them in a line they stand in front of empty class frames exuding false affection while Collins stands at the end, opening a door to embrace me. I hear a distinctive recognition, a twing, as they recognize her as a grandmother. Maybe this is her contribution, the protective ambiance that breaks through the cold waters. Or maybe she’s just a familiarity.

Next. Out of the family in black blue comes from two parents and they take me out of the place as I remainno wait, there was something more, I can’t feel it the twisting fibers of consciousness are luring my dreams away, why. There was more but now none I can see. anyways Out of the school these simulacrums of parental figures herald me out into the bright light and the pure nature of a dream condemns any attempt to illustrate the elusiveness of this process. One moment we were there and the next we were dangling, defying gravity, on a world tree made of sturdy roots, light all around us and it seemed we were floating in the skies. Where am I? The next part I shirk from ever describing again, but I will this time for continuity. They “walk” ahead of me and I see rocks and the unmistakable brine of salty sea foam spraying into the air. The brown-red rocks are at the craggy beginnings of a beach. They have already disappeared behind the corner. walking forward I see the left butt cheek of my “dad” half-revealed as my mother to her right and himself attempt to strip and run at the same time. A naked women with dark skin and tossled dark brown hair and large breasts are walking towards them in the distance. This is a nude beach. Before I can express my feeling of utter abandon, I have to say how disgusting writing this made me feel. continuing-I was bitter at the time, intensely so, so I made my own way on the world tree. Now comes the odd part, I see on the periphery of the vines, a building of black-reddish brick and I assume it’s a school but can’t get to it. Instead my dream-self starts climbing downwards on the vine/root and begins hearing an assortment of what I assume are collegiate voices gossiping about their majors or areas of study. Two denounce another non present voice that was taking a course seen as less…..fit? for a person. If they were persons. Maybe my fears about college. 

Next I enter another room, fairly small, connected to this vast tree and enter a dim lit square room with couches on three sides and a television of the last. It’s on, but I could be imagining the images. Fat men in a dark room with a light illuminating the table where they sit. They wear black suits and sit far back in their chairs as if their weight can’t support any forward movement. Smoke fills the air. They talk about nonsense, things that would be intelligible if this weren’t all a dream. I fell asleep listening to John Maus, so perhaps this is his presence in these fat men. Possible irony. For some forgotten reason I become terrified again, the room gets noticeably darker and I notice a phone, like the ones teachers have on their desk. I think of all the people I might call for help in such a situation- this means my present reality state as a lonely bastard- and I think of Susan. Her numbers appear to me visually as I recall them and my dream self dashes to the phone to dial the number. The doorbell rings, there’s an unlit small hallway behind the phone and its adjacent row of couches. I stand at one end as the doorbell reverberates and the door opens. The bright source of light behind the figure only serves to amplify the terror I experience as I stare at a disfigured horror-movie version of my sister, her face contorted in a mask of utter savagery, the eyes completely white with no pupils present. Slobber or some kind of slime drips down her open mouth and I only have a second to compute all of this before she launches herself at me.

At this moment my alarm rang and the dream ended. In no way did I feel like I was interrupted, it was a logical cut to the end of a bizarre sequence. None of this is inexplicable though. I intend to attack reasons to these images as I have a little throughout the text, but hopefully verbal contemplation will expound on these guesses. I hope these things aren’t too dumb, now I’m late for school.

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