I will spare you any tedious introductions. Just know that I go into this with the assumption that I may be communicating to a group of people who are not real. It’s altogether likely that you are just tricks of my subconscious, wandering about a dream within another dream, and the other dream – the one I suppose we all may be inside – this I will describe.
A gathering of trees swayed hypnotically in the silent breeze. They were unusually tall and thin for their suburban surroundings, clothed in sparse, needly coats. Like robotic ballroom dancers, moving to music only they hear, the evergreens swirled with shifts of the wind, their pliable tops nearly intertwining one another, then gently unwinding and swirling about in opposite directions.
The place had a density to it, like waking up too soon after a sleeping pill, when your body and everything around feels heavy, but you are mostly numb to the heaviness. It was Fall; somehow I knew – the dancing evergreens couldn’t tell me the time, and my skin could not feel the temperature of the breeze, but somehow I knew it was Fall; maybe I’ve been alive long enough to develop an additional sense for these things; maybe it was the measure of light against what I perceived was the time of evening.
Pre-twilight stretched a sepia filter over everything I saw, and I saw more than I cared to – a house beyond the evergreens, large and distinctly stationary in comparison to the dancing trees. When I was young, I became violently ill after eating Vietnamese food. Now I feel queazy whenever somebody talks about Vietnam or its native food. This place – the trees and the house, pronounced in its station – made me feel like that, like I was wafting in a giant bowl of Pho’, and the scent was carrying to me in a way deeper than my sense of smell; the house, its overwhelming shadow cast over me in the street, the shadows of trees cast upon it – were releasing a psychic aroma, not using mouth or nose to make known their presence, but somehow seeping through my pores, infiltrating my blood, running course to locate a forgotten corner of my mind – a corner I kept hidden from all the eyes of the world and fooled myself to think God Himself would never find, but God, it seems, is due an occasional bout of forwardness.
This was the time I first began to feel I may have been dreaming. You know that sense you have when you dream – that sense that you at least partly know what’s going to happen before it happens, and even the actions you carry out in the dream – you find you have little control over them, even if most of you wants to avoid doing some things, but I suppose that is not so unlike our waking lives, where most of us walk about doing what we’d rather not be doing. So perhaps this wasn’t a dream after all.
Either way, dream or not, I knew before I made a move that I would approach the stationary house behind the dancing trees, and I would go inside that house, and I was painfully aware of what I’d find.
– to be continued –