It’s a beautiful Sabbath morning and I run on the wet border line of a quondam free nation.
There is an erroneous sound latched to the lower part of my brain. My eye lashes are too heavy for my eyelids, making my vision blurry. My feet and hands are immobilized. I want to stop running but my frontal lobe is clouded with bogus perceptions.
I am running without a known and vivid purpose. Time isn’t of the essence now. My vitality grows stronger the further I run away from this erroneous sound that is now my only resistance. In a split second I am in a kitchen, laying on top of a long wooden table. Fluids are racing down my neck, passing my chest, and down to the sides of my rib cage. The floors are grumbling, doors keep opening and closing, and my eyeballs are moving rapidly.
Yet, I am a lone wolf with this sound; which is now pinching my eardrum. The sound of urgency, the sound of reason, and the sound of pain. I try to move but I can’t. The warmness of this bondage has put me a state of bliss. I am now infatuated with mendacity and would rather lay here spirited.
What is this sound that my body has become one with? I transfer the remains of my vital force to this sound and have formed a precise conscience. It’s now clear to me that I am dreaming.
Monday morning…. I have overslept and now late for work.