Dream.

DDarkness, the only thing you can see is a door frame in the distance illuminated with light shining through the cracks. You can feel the air has a chill to it and notice the sight of your own breath disturb the clean lines of the light ahead.

Then the screaming starts.

It’s coming from behind the door, louder and louder it builds from a muffled yelp to a guttural roar. Then you realise that isn’t just anyone screaming.

It’s you.

What’s behind this door? Is it danger? A forecast of what’s to come? A manifestation of your own paranoia, perhaps? Only one way to find out. You feel yourself drawn towards this door, the distance between you and it seeming so small yet the expansive darkness could stretch forever.

One slow step follows another as you advance towards the apparent doom, at one point the suspense becomes too much and you break into a run, simply wanting to know and somehow stop your own suffering. Running only seems to make the distance seem more taxing and so you slow once more.

Doubt sets in, what if it is imaginary? Is it something you’d even want to face? You stop. The chill creeps up your spine as the light seems to fade, the screaming stays constant but the darkness is winning in the fight against the light ahead.

It’s then that the door is at arms length. All you need do is reach out and open it. The screaming is relentless, it hasn’t stopped, if anything it’s managed to develop into levels of despair you never even knew possible. With the infinite nothing behind, and the only visible thing the door, you turn the handle and light fills your vision.

White, that’s all you can see for a time as your eyes adjust to the death of the darkness behind. The room gradually bleeds into focus, it is gently lit, warm, inviting. In it is a small table and on that table is a gramaphone with a record playing. Relieved that it wasn’t immediate danger, you lift the arm of the record player and take the disc. As black as the space before the door, you examine it’s lines, in each of those grooves the pure essence of your suffering is held in perfect clarity.

You raise the record, and with a swift arc you cast it to the floor. The shatter reverberates through your body like you feel it physically and then…

White.

Advertisements

3 comments

Leave a Reply

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 )

Twitter picture

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

Facebook photo

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

Google+ photo

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

Connecting to %s