I’ve been having a reoccurring nightmare. Stuck in a giant shopping mall, running everywhere searching for an exit but every corner I turn is filled with endless rows of illusionary fanciful shops brightly lit in dazzling gems of false hopes and promises of power and safe haven. I find no comfort anywhere but rather more and more despair at each pop ups of these intrusive proposals of their economical ideologies of bias benefits. I find myself running up and down these escalators but it seems no matter which way I go; it always feel to be the opposite direction of where ever I’m heading towards. Lost. The electronic floors below my feet pushing me towards the very thing I’m trying to outrun. I feel like I’m running on a conveyor belt of an industrialized horror. I’ve no idea why I’m trying to run up to the highest floor; I’ve already come to suspect it will be just another level of the same shit, copy and pasted in a slight variant of the truth. Yet there is a glimmer of hope that the floor will somehow lead to an exit to the outside world and I’m afraid if I don’t climb it and choose to avoid that option, I might never see it again. The desire to escape is strong. The desire to eliminate myself from the equation, the fleeting dreams of an unachievable goal.

The darkness is surrounding me. I felt it on my skin, the cold December wind blanket me in shivers. I don’t who or what it is in the dark, I don’t know why I’m so fearful of it, I don’t know why I run from it. Maybe I was taught to fear the unknown. Maybe it is the unfortunate genetic coding of my cave dwelling ancestors. Whatever it is, it had contributed to my tendency to stay awake during the night and I’m only able to truly fall asleep during the day. It might upset my circadian rhythm but it puts my mind to ease whenever I see the sun rises again on the horizon. You might dismiss this primitive fear of the sun permanently disappearing from our sky as a ludicrous notion, but those who seen the night will understand why such fear is a valid phobia. The dark is filled with the strange, cruel, cold, ghoulishly wicked creatures from the deep abyss of the void.

I pretend to stand upon the wall that protects the sanity of man and guard it against the rolling clouds of the darkness as my job description required of me, as I fulfil my oath of watching the night, but I too fear it. Perhaps more than others. I fear that I’ve might already fall from my post at the wall and now lost on the outside, alone in the night. Naked in the Darkness.

I may be disgusted by the routine bickering of the land of man but yet I rather fight on familiar grounds than to die in my exploration of my own curiosity. The Mundanity kills me from the inside.

The Void is tempting.

A man who is yet to prove to himself of his worth will doubt his strength. He cries and worries for those he is responsible for. His feet may walk towards his destiny through the dark forest of the forbidden, holding off the night with his speck of torch and the aid of the blunt short sword but his heart is heavy of the old nostalgia. And so his nightmare continues. There is things in this world that mankind should have never discovered but now we should never forget them. The world is filled with dangerous ideologies and mysteries of the old ones. The self righteous man should never be trusted. But no one will believe on a villain. You decide which I am. Deep within the depths of the black, he lies asleep. He awaits. Don’t wake him up from his nightmare they say. So I walk away from the man sleeping in the bed of roots and walk into the night.

I walk in the middle of nowhere. In the farthest landscape of the dessert of non-existence, the truck stop motel where ideological prostitution comes to die, entertaining the lonely few living creatures that drives on the highway of eternal night. In the wide open space with the horizon filled with ranges of red rocks holding up the artificial stars as the heaven above busily ignores our trivial life of hollow survival. The night sky shadowed by the black hole sun hanging and sucking the light of this world. The island of light becomes my haven. The size and architectural design of it reminds me of one of those western salons where cowboys go for a brawl but the dusty ground is replaced by tar granites and the horses are the metallic optimus primes. The area is lit up with neon lights of suggestive manner. The stripper stood outside near the dumpster smoking her thin cigarette with the tears rolling down her cheeks messing up her badly applied mascara. The red lipstick smears on the white buds as her shaking lips inhale the cheap poison. The green and pink lights flickering layers of a new perspective of her used up sexuality. A gross beauty. Wrapped in the lack of clothings.

“Why does everything goes wrong? I’ve loved you for too long. But what you did to me, it ain’t fair. I’m stuck in ball and chain for that is all I could do. Everyday I sit by my window, just looking out at the rain in the sunny dry dessert and honey it cant be in vain when I say, baby its all pain. It’s all in vain. Somebody tell me why love is like a ball of chain?” – she said.

“I am a virgin. Below the waist. But I enjoy seeing them with my eyes. Hearing their sweet voice. Smelling the seductive odour. I crave their touch. But never will I harm you.” – I replied.

“Look at me. I’m the kind of girl your mom warned you about. I’ve got the reputation that will make you sick to your stomach but I don’t give a damn about my bad reputation. I’ve never stray away from any deviation, and its all just a misinterpretation of the situation with a terrible communication of opinions. So why should I care about my self preservation for a twinkling lifetime of a generation that’s living in the pass as the new addiction with endless mind numbing contents as our obsessions. I’ll do what I’ll have to do and I don’t care if you think I’m strange.” – she said.

“I hope you get better in the sun. If it ever does come back up. Probably not today. So its best not to say.” – I said as I walk away from her and towards the dessert night pub oddly named ‘The End’ as the sign suggests.

The ticks of the needle echoes in the silence of the night sky as the smoke gently slithers with the night breeze. The amber of the pipe illuminating his eyes that is fixed onto his pocket watch. His stare piercing through the numerical symbols engraving on the round metal clockwork. It was a worn out bronze pocket watch, the size of a palm, adorned with markings and patterns of cultural artistry and of an unknown origin, with the top cover comprise of a large embossing of a skull on a seven pointed star; alloy casing.

“You are searching for informations to make all this somehow more real and tangible in your context of a reality?” – said the Man.

“I supposed. I am a little lost. Deep into that Darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing, doubting, dreaming dreams, no mortal ever dared to dream before.” – replied me.

“Yes, The Darkness is all around. We are slaves to the light for the void is eternally consuming. But if you’re looking for answers, look no further. We are all information. We are becoming more and more of a cluster of data of our biological codes of random theoretical infinite probabilities of figurative numbers, floating about in the spaces of the artificially stimulated connectivity. No longer do we need the contact of the social bonding that the primitive meat suit craved for; the vessel for a consciousness; we have become more attached to our illusionary visions of dreams and ideas using the medium of light manipulation. The narratives that we follow on our inanimate objects. Monkeys looking at the visions on a rock. Not so much has evolved. Before we ate shrooms, now we turn on the power. The electrical sorcery of which we have mastered; tools of our disposal. Our lives, our souls poured in these new craftsmanships of intellectual strength. Yet like always we do not know how to use them properly. We are still slaves of our own mortal conditions. The immortal would look at us in disappointments. We let ourselves blinded by our own individual obsessions that we have forgotten, that we have already invented the time machine.” – He suggested.

“I don’t pretend to understand what it is you are saying but these seems a logical progression for my path. The patterns on the axioms I walk on allows such validations of your ideas. But perhaps you could be more plain about what is it that I am searching for?” – I replied.

“You wont find anyone who will speak fro here. Certainly not you. What I’m saying is that all of us is just algorithms. While our decaying body rots with entropy, in our minds we are able to fly across dimensions into a world of a relatively different, where the words are the tracks of Time, and the imagination is the most fundamental particle of this dream world. Here we live a full life as the pages in those books. A master of words and ideas is a Pan-dimensional Lord of Inter-Multiversity Travel. Such a race of Word Lords did once breath in this universe but Death could be a bitch. A handful survived, they roam in the Dimensions above with the other Eternal Beings. Humans who call themselves shamans and scientist could perhaps master such skills of metaphorical symbols manipulation to change the trajectory of a perspective and create a meme that would achieve the stage of what some would call as Godhood. But where I stand, the one true God is far larger out here. They fear not wizards and witches such as the Eternals, and those who see we Eternals as Gods are insulting the Grandeur of the Almighty One, the Singular point of both fundamental dualities of existences and vice versa.” – He conceptualized.

“Intriguing. There is a slight cognitive dissonance to compute all this nonsensical journey.” – I admitted.

“Well the Bar is always open to further research of your new landscape of the mind. Remember, there is a limit to every mind.” – He warned me.

“I’m afraid I’ve might already lost my mind but that’s between me and my mind.” – I confessed.

“When you do find out; send me a postcard from the other side.” – He ordered.

I entered into oblivion. I entered into obscurity and dissipate forever. Eternal nothingness.

“Take a picture of me, in your head. When I’m dead.”

Feed us your comments.

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s