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.