The life I live: Prologue.
Dreams are many things. Some call them a mere collection of images, projected from our own minds into our sub consciousness. Others call them premonitions of ones future, and even death omens under certain circumstances. Still others call them the product of magic, the kind of magic that one might find only in his childhood and, wishing to experience their childish dreams once more, create the world that he or she had for saw as they were still pure and untainted by the ‘true’ worlds affect upon their young minds. Finally, some still consider dreams to be images that present to us ourselves. Let me tell you a dream that never ceases to ponder the thoughts of my mind; for when I first saw this dream, I knew that, without a doubt, I was damned.
I would usually be sitting with my knees crossed on nothing; just utter darkness underneath me. I would sometimes be caught standing, but it was all the same. My attention wasn’t attracted of my surroundings: because there was nothing to pay attention to. There were no luscious trees, evergreen hills, buildings were absent, along with people, just nothing. There were only two objects that in my dream, and they never left my sights. The first was a simple line. It stretched directly from the end of my vision the other. It was the size and color of a regular string, but I never dared to step on or beyond it; it was my boundary line. It’s what separated my life from everything else. Besides, I wouldn’t want to get any closer to the only other thing excluding it and me. A figure-no, a man, would be on the opposite side of the line from me and do exactly what I was doing. It was a plain white man, with no face, nor ears, nor hair; it only had a strange tattoo on its left shoulder, the design was similar to a shoulder brace and it was entirely the color of indigo blue. Whenever I moved, it would move; if I moved my arm, it would move its arm the same way as I had moved mine. The only part of this dream I don’t quite understand is at the very last moment, before I wake up. At the end of my dream, the man would stand up on his side of the boundary line and point at me. Then, I would hear the only sound in that dark and lonely world that followed me even after I leave for the world of daylight; the sound of screaming. It would begin with only a few voices at once, a man and woman possibly; and then it would increase in density. Soon it would be a crowd of people screaming, and then an entire city’s worth of voices would accumulate within the hollow vastness of the world I dream of and howl in what sounded like pain and horror. I would try and shake the sounds away from me, crying my eyes out with fear and pity. Why are they screaming, I always think to myself; but return with no answer. And then I look up, and see before my eyes the palm of the right hand of the man and watch as its grip tightened over the left side of my face. There is nothing neither good nor bad in this world; but thinking makes you believe so, doesn’t it? Those are the only words I hear over the screaming and my jumbling thoughts of surviving from his grip before I wake up.
- Title: the Prologue
- Artist: Hero359
- Description: this is the prologue to my new story...tell me what you think...we have cookies for you if you do!
- Date: 12/17/2009
- Tags: prologue
No comments available ...