Last night sleep did not come…
Within the substrate of lucid wakefulness, yet consciousness arose, though without a form in the basement, that minds have come to label as the subconscious world.
Unbeknownst these eyes awoke floating in a bus or a train… its still so hazy the frames moved so swiftly without a moment of thought.
Visiting lucidly a layer of reality as no form… Sight was fixated involuntarily on a man’s paralyzed face staring out towards the window in a terrified gaze… frozen.
Turning as pure sight repeating this notion to the reader as to convey the senseless sense of formlessness without a body nor a voice. The vivid horror continued as this moment was inexplicable the eyes watched in disarray each building disappear.
Somehow whatever the rain touched became formless, drops of water evaporated anything it touched into the ether within seconds.
The exception was this odd building shaped like a factory with two chimneys, what remained of it was a silhouette of smoke like a solid dark mist that did not lose its imprinted form. Moving like smoke while retaining the building’s original shape.
Suddenly the train or bus sped even faster. As if wanting to outrun the rain. The roof of the vehicle disappeared. Perception felt the raindrops hit a body that eyes could not see.
A form eyes did not know right before the bus or train made it under the bridge. What can it all mean? Still to this day pondering ponders me. It felt so real though it seemed like a movie reel playing automaticly.
Soon after, sight began to disappear. Consciousness began to fade into darkness once again like a tunnel without an end fading in an out, like the moment before sleep.
As these eyes were thrown backwards at a speed that moved with light, through shifting space seeing a whirlwind of moving images warp away. It felt like being strapped to a rocket without a ship moving swiftly backwards without a body. Only to return once more to this pleathered couch.
This dungeon, this icy hell. Glaring at my sheets. Seeing the face of a monster, a man, and a woman imprinted on the sheet while feeling two worlds in sleep paralysis. One beside the other… Devolving from one another.
Must these eyes from the twelve house. Be a blessing within a curse. Must introverted intuition have a cost like an universal energy tuition fee that stings. The peculiar world of perpetual feelings that imprint mystic perceptions from the other shore. A hermit from the abyss thus left the world alone, while living in its noise, living in the world, but knowing eye am not of it.
Between two houses, between two worlds, what a gem in eye that feels cancerian, a cuspian summer solstice, an unfathomable existance to a mundane sentinal perspective.
A life of an impregnable solitude an isolated enigma, or is it preordained by the stars?
Written in the wheel? Written on the skin within the body’s book spine, within the eye library that has been labeled earth. Searching in nothingness the empty insubstantial memories that reflect the mind like a mirror within this fixed dream. Like the flame scar upon this forehead.
Such as the force of mind that sheds light, of a magnetic electric quality, that emerges thoughts and subjugates the body, within that pull, that binds the soul to form.