Quixotic dreamscapes melt together without cohesion, scenes defy logic and a patchwork calculus agglomerates your self-awareness. Puzzled, riddled and with profound stupidity, your nerfed imagination takes the drivers wheel. Now that you're a passenger in your own head you bear the emotional weight of impossible embellishments, grandeur clouds your mind. Reiterating amnesia, obscure nadirs of what you've forgotten, yanked from the manilla envelopes of your psyche, continuously facing the unknown endlessness. Immersed in the disintegrating memories as your brain cleans itself up.
Visions within my slumber seem marked with idyllic symbolism. They demand I decipher them and their meaningless meanings, that I wring beneficial wisdoms and truths out of their random and illogical construct. Esoteric essence of nonsenses, best left to rot inside the dying neuron and unprojected into my awareness. That a hidden message lie uncloaked in a stew of washed out memories within the unconscious can entertain a bended notion. I rather not visit where interpretation must break ground to plant a tree of belief. Beyond that, a wilderness of provocative puzzles, cloaked in the lie of promise. Forget this I say, reality is nicer.
* * * * * * * * * *
“Chlorine.” said the soul who sailed the Heavens, traveling intervals so great that no Earth man has ever reached. The Heavens are infinite and infinite are the number of worlds like Earth.
Through space and time in the dimension of eternity, the lone soul searched the Heavens for the world of his choosing. Unfathomable intervals he went. Eventually entering a planet of clouds.
The traveling soul disconnected into another form, unaware of his location, descending while lightning flashes struck around him. The air was thick like that blood in our hearts.
A new form became the soul, morphing into the lightning and clouds himself, never reaching the surface. A new hunger.
There were no crosswalks or lights at the intersection. All the cars were guided automatically. Aliens would turn their heads and look, sitting on their chairs. Throwing darts at dartboards posted along the road. Counting their points on the way to where they were going.
The porch light was on in the daytime as the odd cars drove past. An elderly lady came out of her house and bestowed lavish blessings of miraculous splendor upon her company. She said, “Howdy. The wheel wasn't reinvented in a win-win situation, you know.” Her company wasn't aware of any of that, in fact, the man at her door hasn't seen a wheel since he got there.
A hissing surprised them and they all looked around for where the lightning was. The old lady said, “That sure was some flaccid lightning.”
Another hiss of lightning. This time they saw it because they were watching. Drizzling at the ground from a cloud. Like runny cake icing. Eventually the lightning landed in the old lady's garden, caught in the cup of a flower. The picket fence behind it, dividing the sidewalk off.
Another hiss of lightning, right above them. Landing on the garden gnome next to the old lady's porch. The garden gnome crackles, surging alive in a fury of shouts and screams.
The old lady and her company made their escape inside her house, leaving the gnome outside. The gnome was lifted into a tornado and carefully rested upon a monolith. The little bugs scattered far and wide. The gnome could see the souls falling out of Heaven from his new location.
Falling souls sought safety from the chaos of the locations they left. They needed the gnome and others like him to care for them but the gnome said, “No.” and closed the gate. And so the gateway was closed once again and that was the end of the souls' entry.
The gnome caught the last drizzle of lightning in a cup and said, “You. I am holding you.”
The last soul said, “I am no fabrication, look there at that house yonder. See the old lady in the window, she isn't a scene of my memory. Yet she hallucinates under the power of rotten bread. For you see I am a soul and was always a soul and can see a great distance. You are special, gnome, and I love you with a deep love. You are beautiful. I can show you the universe. You must be a soul as I am. I offer you eternity, gnome. An eternity of forever love to cherish with your hearts content. Please, do not say no, gnome.”
The gnome said, “I am protectorate of this planet and shall not allow you to make such daunting threats. I shall destroy you right here, soul. You shall not limit my power.”
The gnome crushed the cup of soul lightning on the monolith top. The last soul of lightning splashed about in broken pieces of porcelain. The old lady was watching from her window, eyes full of curiosity and wonder. She held a saucer and a tea cup and thought the gnome was trying to use lightning to break it in her hand. She refused to let the gnome's lightning win.
A man with a video camera walked into her yard and to the window's edge and filmed the old lady drinking her tea. A boy outside said, “Mom, what is that? That's gotta be a gnome!”
Then the moon came out and hung low under the clouds, asked the gnome where the lightning went. He said, “I took care of it, don't you worry, you should stay outside of the high atmosphere, you're messin' up our tides.”
The moon said, “I can't, I got shiny ticks and they're tearin' holes in me. Can you help pick them out?”
For a good several minutes the gnome wondered how he could help the moon. He produced a weapon and said, “Here is what you need to tear your shiny ticks apart, now go on moon, save your surface from the holes.” The moon then returned to where it belonged but first bumping into Ecuador.
Then every person with an animal and a brain suddenly disappeared. The only one left was the man without a brain and his animal was a chameleon. 72 seconds went real quick and then all the people that left returned. But they were all squished together and made of a single body, a huge hideous gob of body parts. Still alive this shape was, with its countless limbs protruding out of the amalgamated body. The gnome was disgusted and almost vomited but could do nothing to help them.
The living amalgamated gob of people and animals would stay in place forever because it was too large to move. It spoke a hundred languages with twice as many mouths to feed. Scientists tested the amalgamated gob and couldn't find out why this happened, the only thing they could determine was that it was an accident.
The gob would have to give in without fight to any pressing demand. Even though the people placed a parameter around it, people usually crossed that line anyways because, what's the gob gonna do about it? They like to make the gob beg because it sounded funny with all those mouths.
The police interrupted the funny games and posted guards around the amalgamated accident and said, “At least the moon didn't squish them.”
The old lady's company wanted to leave but she wouldn't let them because of the danger. She said, “Inside here there isn't a worry, no regrets. Keep having a good time while I drink my tea in the window.”
Her company said, “Whatever you want, anything not amalgamated is okay with us. We want to see a movie do you know of some good ones?”
The old lady said, “I am sorry but I am busy handling my business and you'll need to pick your own. Off the top of my head though, any movie made in 1959 should be alright.”
The work was cut out for the gnome who wanted to keep the monolith to himself. He kept sending visitors to see the amalgamated accident and sometimes that wasn't enough. Some visitors returned and pelted him with oranges until the monolith top was sticky. He couldn't get a second of leisure and felt like a front door rug.
He looked in the long distance at some farms on the horizon, most notably the one that grew the beets. A man was sowing seeds out there when one of the moons' shiny ticks fell onto the Earth there and the shiny tick took him away.” All of the Earth suddenly shook everywhere and everyone couldn't stand, except the old lady at the window who a second before the earthquake finished her tea.
The gnome held on for dear life as the earthquake shook the monolith. A swan landed up there with the gnome and said, “Dear gnome, the troll ate my brother.” And then pecked the gnome on the nose.
The gnome screamed in pain as the monolith shook, desperately clinging on for dear life. He yelled, “Why do you peck me, swan? I did nothing to you! Would you like to get plucked alive?”
The swan said, “Dare you not threaten me, this world is dying. Can't you feel the endless quake? I come to offer you an escape. I pecked your nose because of the harm you dealt to that poor lightning soul. Now watch the wormhole open for the innocent to escape.”
An elaborate mess of free-drifting blocky shapes materialized. The shapes reformed themselves while the object continuously rotated. The shapes followed a mathematical pattern and the overall look of the structure gave the gnome and the swan a counter-intuitive sense, as though what they were seeing was somehow wrong. The shape shimmered like it was right beneath the surface of an invisible river.
The swan said, “You feel wrong because you think this thing is an object that is of physical dimensions, that it has an inside and you are seeing the outside. Truth is that you are seeing the inside, there is an inward shape, like a mathematical portal. Go through and save yourself.” The swan smacked the gnome on his shoulder and knocked the gnome through the portal. The swan laughed and said, “Ha ha, sucker!”
The old lady thought she was crazy now because all of the things going on. She stayed there at the window with her tea cup, hesitant, waiting for the circus outside to stop.
She remembered she dreamt about her husband but that they were living in 1461 and they were dressed like it. They danced and were merry and kept having a good time. She missed her husband.
Her company made it to the living room while the ground kept rumbling. They said, “What is going on? Half your house is gone and in its missing place there is a maze!”
The old lady said, “Well stay in here with me and we shall watch the world end together. Would you like some tea?”
Her company said, “No, we are not thirsty right now.”
The mailman came waltzing towards her porch, determined to finish his route. The old lady said to him, “Can't you see mister that the world is ending, why do you continue on?”
The mailman said, “No, the world isn't ending, it almost crashed into the moon but we were lucky they didn't stick together. This earthquake should stop in a minute. Why don't you take your messages?”
The old lady said, “We pray you are right. Thank you. Goodbye. See you tomorrow, sir.”
Her company retrieved the mail and gave the old lady an envelope. She opened it and read it out loud. She said, “Dear Old Lady, how have you been? You should be well as previously confirmed. We ask you kindly for specific information concerning a key. We cannot access the location without raising particular mistrusting hunches. So when you part ways with your company please give us a call. Data Control.”
The old lady placed the letter on her window sill and got a bout of flashes. Glowing ethereal incandescence bathed her sight with a tinge. She took the largest drink of tea that she has taken as of yet and saw the tracer marks in the air. The palm of her hand was glowing as though it were breathing an aura of it's own. Fluorescence.
The company said, “Are you alright? You seem to be getting faint.”
Right then thousands of shiny ticks fell to Earth from space, drifting with anti-gravitational effects.
The old lady said, “Don't you see? Right there?” She pointed, “That isn't natural phenomenon. With all that is happening right now how could anyone at all be alright?”
Her company looked out the window first time since they arrived and one of them said, “My God, what is that?! What is going on out there? It's a circus I say, a circus I say! I think we all, all of us, should say a Holy prayer.”