This is the most disturbing dream in recent memory:
I am alone in a dark apartment. How I got there is another story (dream context is just so hard to pin down, isn't it?). The room is cramped and cluttered with dull and fuzzy objects. Out of the window I see gargantuan arrays of concrete walls jutting out at sharp and peculiar angles, utterly esconced in windows. The sky is not of this world - countless clouds of uncanny depth unravel wispy tendrils to enshroud the hazy nexus of boiling purples and black aether above (seriously). The measure of immensity is oppressive, so I look away. I feel pensive and I pace nervously for a while before sitting down.
"There's something in my eye," I think. I'm having trouble blinking. My eyelid feels stuck.
I casually walk to the bathroom (funny how you always know where to find things like that). I sidle up to the mirror and look in.
My stomach clenches in revulsion as the most forlorn dread washes over me: where my (rather nice-looking) right iris used to be - should be - lies a pitiful mass of exploded pink flesh.
"I cannot see," I think. "I have no eye."
Fear and panic rush in. Cupping the wound, I straggle out into the world. I scream for help, but no-one is there. Helplessness and fear are the only sensations I'm aware of. The world darkens as I sit down miserably. Tears that are just barely salient roll down my cheek and I feel that anxious tinge that somehow represents bodily pain.
Someone is coming! Who is it? It doesn't matter, only that it's someone I know. I plead to him, but he brushes me aside.
"I'm serious this time! Just look at my eyes!" I cry as I uncover the wound. He sighs and turns around. When he sees me a funny look comes across his face. There is concern in it, but in an almost disappointed way. It's a sad, promising look.
"Another day." he says before he turns and leaves.
And I wake up.
I am alone in a dark apartment. How I got there is another story (dream context is just so hard to pin down, isn't it?). The room is cramped and cluttered with dull and fuzzy objects. Out of the window I see gargantuan arrays of concrete walls jutting out at sharp and peculiar angles, utterly esconced in windows. The sky is not of this world - countless clouds of uncanny depth unravel wispy tendrils to enshroud the hazy nexus of boiling purples and black aether above (seriously). The measure of immensity is oppressive, so I look away. I feel pensive and I pace nervously for a while before sitting down.
"There's something in my eye," I think. I'm having trouble blinking. My eyelid feels stuck.
I casually walk to the bathroom (funny how you always know where to find things like that). I sidle up to the mirror and look in.
My stomach clenches in revulsion as the most forlorn dread washes over me: where my (rather nice-looking) right iris used to be - should be - lies a pitiful mass of exploded pink flesh.
"I cannot see," I think. "I have no eye."
Fear and panic rush in. Cupping the wound, I straggle out into the world. I scream for help, but no-one is there. Helplessness and fear are the only sensations I'm aware of. The world darkens as I sit down miserably. Tears that are just barely salient roll down my cheek and I feel that anxious tinge that somehow represents bodily pain.
Someone is coming! Who is it? It doesn't matter, only that it's someone I know. I plead to him, but he brushes me aside.
"I'm serious this time! Just look at my eyes!" I cry as I uncover the wound. He sighs and turns around. When he sees me a funny look comes across his face. There is concern in it, but in an almost disappointed way. It's a sad, promising look.
"Another day." he says before he turns and leaves.
And I wake up.