I surrender myself to the inevitable darkness of sleep, which
in turn throws me into this night’s maelstrom.
How far down the rabbit hole of crazy will I allow myself to go tonight? Bing…last floor, totally bizarre with drabs
of paranoid. Enjoy your stay, and please
watch your step.
Things are out of sequence here, the glass is broken and
then it is full, people move in reverse and reality is truly relative. Like a poorly edited movie, I jump from scene
to scene and none of it makes any sense.
There is nothing to which I can grasp on to, and I slide down into the
warm embrace of madness.
The red, stained darkness of my mind reels at the disjointed
assemblage of images running riot through the outer reaches of my skull. Come on you demons, if you think you are hard
enough. Let’s have at it then shall we.
Let’s play this night’s mad adventure out for real now. Let us fight our apocalypse here, on this bare
ground. You, me, and all the chaotic
self-destruction that we can muster; the party is at ground zero, and I brought
the dip.
None of this is making any sense, but it no longer frightens
me. I am reveling in the chaos; bring
it, I scream, and a demon’s head explodes in gory triumph. Point blank, both barrels, screaming
now. Fix bayonets, and charge to the
sound of the guns. This is the revolution
and it will not be televised. Come on
you demons and devils of the Id, let’s get this over with.
A mirror shatters, and then reforms. The glass was jagged, now it is smooth. Smooth, flat, brilliant in the light. Where is that light coming from? The glass is
below the fight, which is falling upward, away from me. Flat, featureless, dazzling …I’m falling
faster, I can’t fly, but I am falling with style. The glassy surface yields and I find myself
in another space.
Brilliant and crystalline, it hums with a glorious
pulse. Everything moves; the subtle eddies
of space-time are revealed, and order is resurrected. The crystal gives way to clockwork,
gears slowly moving, time flowing as it should.
I open the door, onto an improbable beach. Carl and Albert are sitting under a thick,
sweet smelling cloud. Their chaise
lounges are parked next to a palm; their drinks are fuchsia with little yellow
umbrellas. The universe has had its way
with me. They raise their drinks and
smile.
The alarm goes off.
