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JTSJ
♂️
[20222967]
[2011-12-18 04:33:02 +0000 UTC]
"the fly in the sunshine"
(Singapore)
# Statistics
Favourites: 121; Deviations: 36; Watchers: 5
Watching: 27; Pageviews: 3269; Comments Made: 29; Friends: 27
# About me
Once I had a dream.The floor was a swampy morass of pink styrofoam bricks. A sweet, salmon pink. Some were chipped, nibbled, battered and tattered, possibly from being traipsed on by scores of other juvenile dream-walkers.
Before me I beheld a cavernous room, it's walls whitewashed but painted a dark, velvety green toward the bottom. A nebulous orange glow filled the room like vitriolic yolk.
In retrospect I could never pinpoint where the luminescence came from - perhaps from some unseen lamps at the corners.
To my left was a brief, narrow corridor, a ceiling as high as that of the room itself, and unlike the chamber it was well-lit by lights inlayed into the ceiling. An orange tint swathed the walls and danced across the shoulders of my siblings, who were hurrying down the corridor, their strides big and ungainly because of the pink blocks that stymied their feet. They were harried, obviously, as if some murderous demon were on their heels, but there was mirth in their countenances that suggested it was all a game to them. If it wasn’t an innocuous game, they wouldn’t have been comfortable abandoning me to what lay supine in the middle of the chamber.
A pair of lifeless eyes derided me with an unfeeling, malignant gaze. They were larger than pumpkins, but otherwise were straight out of some demented playground fixture - they were drawn on, pasted on, like the peepers on some children's toy: Pac-man shaped pupils, complete with a bubble-like addition near the edges to produce an illusory shine.
The eyes were painted onto a grey, amorphous head shaped like two digger’s scoops, except edentate and flimsy, clamped together to form a rudimentary maw.
The rest of its body was limbless, no more than a distended, grotesque cuboid, again made from the same plastic canvas that constituted the rest of the monster. It was bereft of organs, flesh, bones, or muscles for that matter – just an empty cutaneous shell.
Its flanks appeared to have large, clear plastic windows in them, which is how I came easily to the conclusion that it had no organs, unless its organs happened to be little children – bumptious, bubbly little children, their eyes narrowed into blithe slits as they quaked and bounced around with mirth.
The thing was one big, sentient, inflatable playground, I realized at this point. The children appeared to have entered it of their own volition. There was, however, a colossal, rusty metal crane arm extending from its back that gave me some idea as to how it coaxed less-than-willing patrons into its bowels. Pistons gleamed along the crane’s imperious lengths, ending in an dull, unwieldy hook. It looked industrial-grade, the kind of dirigibles you normally see hauling inhuman weights at construction sites. Here, especially indoors, it looked terribly out of place.
Situations that would be harrowing in real life lose much of their urgency and terror in dreams, however. It is worth mentioning that though I was still a young child, I met this confrontation with complete and utter equanimity. I was completely calm, my heart barely beating any faster (my heart barely beating at all), even as I beseeched the monster:
“Please don’t hook me.”
It had seemed a very appropriate thing to say at the time, after I had deduced the creature’s intentions. I brought the message across with simplicity and brevity, regardless of how inane the entreaty might seem.
I think my dream ended here. You can never be sure with dreams. Possibly the monster allowed me to join my siblings. It could also be that the monster dragged me, kicking and screaming, into its dark and dismal depths. Maybe I wasn’t kicking and screaming, but instead facile and forbearing. Maybe after joining the other kids inside the intestinal playground, I soon warmed to my predicament, rejoiced in it even. Maybe another unfortunate adventurer would visit this same room, would see me, enraptured, though the windows. Maybe he’d fall victim too.
I never did find out.
///
