A place for dreams.

Night’s call I awake to a calling. A wordless sound that echoes within me. I lay on my bed with shafts of light streaming through the blinds. Stretching out a hand and reaching for my phone, which sits on my side table, I check the time – 3:30am. These are the Silent Hours, when the world slumbers. Sitting up, I rub the sleep and tension from my eyes; I feel strange, out of equilibrium. A sensation of vulnerability flows through me. The calling continues. It seems as if someone or something is physically tugging at my mind. Grabbing a dagger from my glass cabinet, the dragon-pommel one with a ruby set in its eye socket (coloured glass of course), I leave my room and wander through the house. The blade feels reassuring in my hand. I had bought it years ago, from a gypsy lady at one of those Mardi Gras that was prevalent at the time. Stalking through the house I discover nothing out of place; I am alone. With a wavering resolve I decide to go outside and investigate

An Ode of Mist. Journey into night; destination lost Darkness consoles me Walking. Watching. Waiting. The emptiness. Imbued by the birth of mist Floating around me, alone yet not lonely Twisted luminance, a faint outline appears Humanlike in form, corporeal in construct Fair, faint, maiden of magic Away she shifts upon wisps of wind Rising. Reacting. Running. The longing. Always without reach Dancing before my fingertips Wicked lips, smiling timidly Entranced; she slips into my heart Ceasing flight…arrested vision Air alters her to me Touching. Tasting. Twirling. The euphoria. Arouse her mind – intoxicate Ballad of bodies – resonate Carnal hearts, caress – procreate Shallow breath, fatigued souls Lingering threads of emotional bondage Embracing. Experiencing. Existing. The moiety. Reality rises, bringing the dawn Temporal rendezvous flees Lies betrayed by light; evaporation of ethereal mist A path tr

Pool of Psychosis. (Part two) I am alive. My torment of encasement continues. Throughout the night, I was constantly reminded of the intimate closeness of the crystal – this multi-faceted cage of pain. My body could not move and for an unknown reason, air was not a necessity. Claustrophobia had long since been replaced by an emotion that far exceeded my understanding of fear. All I knew was that it originated from a previously dormant part of my mind. The dunes taunting song did little to ease my thoughts. A pre-dawn sky finally appears; the light of morning vanquishes the darkness of night. A solar orb crests the horizon and as the rays shine on my crystalline form, it happens… a crack appears on the crystal covering my outstretched hand, a piece pops off and drops onto the sand below. The crack then descends the length of my arm and spreads out covering the entirety of my body following the trajectory of my veins. My cage shatters, splintering away from me in fractals of

Dunes of Delusion. (Part one) I feel it, swirling over me; coarse and warm. The wind carries it at a constant flow across my exposed legs and back. A pressure on my chest informs me that I am lying flat down, face slightly tilted to the side. Muffled sounds come to my attention, too distant for me to comprehend. My throat is raw, my mouth parched; I lever my eyelids gradually apart but can not bring my eyes into focus. My myopic vision finally discerns a twisting pattern of particles…sand! Blinking as my mind clears; I pull my half-submerged bulk out of the ground. Looking around, a barren, dune-filled landscape is all that there is to see. The pale light of a setting sun casts an eerie atmosphere upon the land. I become conscious of the breeze beating against my body once again and look down at myself. My chest is bare except for a multitude of discolourations on my skin, my khaki trousers (they don’t deserve to be called that) is a patchwork of holes and I am shoe-less.

Parable of the hollow. In the west, the moon descends below the horizon and takes the darkness with it. In the east, the sun rises above the mountains and brings about another dawn. I am here, somewhere in the middle; the moment in which night meets day, the civil twilight, where a grey sky transforms into blue. A forgiving breeze blows about me while cumulus clouds take shape within my reach. Standing in the sky I feel peace vibrate through me. My calmness is broken as I become conscious to the fact that I am “standing in the sky”. Looking down in panic; gravity and logic grab me and I fall! Plummeting downwards, extremities flailing, I descend into unconsciousness. Reviving into faint lucidity, I discover that I am in a cavern crafted of glaciers. A fire burns ahead of me and nought else is present except ice and shadows. From a distance, I watch the flames twist, fluid-like, coupled with the air. The logs at the base pop and splutter. A quasi-red radiance can be seen in th

The Nocturnal Vault of The Heavens Lucidity dawns and I find myself drifting peacefully, with none for company save the stars and silence, through space. The stars surround me in their magnificent luminosity; these fireflies of the cosmos. The silence is profound and true. My body is not in my control and it appears that I am locked in elliptical orbit as the world moves around me. In the distance I gaze upon chemically-coloured nebulas, blazing comets of ice and rock and irregular galaxies. A beam of white energy blinks past me. In that instant, I feel the heat of a thousand suns; my being is vaporised to oblivion. The moment passes and I am intact once again. The source of this power looms before me. It is huge. It is so massive that it completely fills my vision…wherever I look it is present. A celestial body that is shades of blood red and flame orange. It spirals within itself as lightning viciously strikes about it. At the centre of this cosmic maelstrom there is an empt

Serpents’ Slumber. Shivering, I awake. The chilly night is not to blame, but rather, it is a fierce motion, generated from the epicentre of my being. Something is wrong, profoundly wrong. Wiping the sleep from my eyes, I discover where I am and as a result know that I am dreaming. Lying on my double bed, in the corner of my old room, a cool, coarse wall on my left and the wooden computer desk on my right. Sitting up in my nostalgia, I peer around the room. Peculiarly, my eyes do not need to adjust to the darkness around me. My reverie is broken by the motion of a glowing entity passing through my closed door. Edging to the end of the bed, I confront a curious creature. Slithering on the floor towards me is a snake-like animal. Apart from the head, the green-patterned length of it is mostly snake. In its place is a bleached human skull with a shimmering haze in the eye-sockets and fangs instead of customary teeth. Wisps of ashen hair dance as it moves. This disproportionate con

The Darkness returns. The wooden stairs creaked as we tiptoed across them. Towards the attic, we ventured; a somewhat frightful expectation swam around us. Motes of dust drifted around the room, illuminated by shafts of light peeking through the dilapidated ceiling. This was the first time we had been here, our nervousness overcome by curiosity. To our surprise, the room was a myriad of oddities. From an assortment of jewels and keys to a collection of animal bones and paintings. I glimpsed my reflection on a mirror that hung against a wall - I was young (seven or eight years of age); of course, I did not pay any attention to this. As my friend and I scanned the room, the dust split and a man appeared. He was garbed in grey robes with a silver blade set into his hand. I stood transfixed by his Cheshire smile as he rushed for me. The dagger made contact with the air as my friend tackled me out of the way. Snarling spitting rage, almost beast-like, escaped his lips. He grabbed

Pieces of me. It started suddenly, or from what I can remember, it was the first sensation that I felt… With every motion of my jaw, the jagged, biting chunks of glass were crushed by my teeth. It was a slow, monotonous action which seemed to be taking place. My every heartbeat pulsed with mind-altering pain. I craved for the torment to conclude but as much as my body quivered and my soul cried, I remained there transfixed by the routine of it all. Pain was all I knew. I did awake at one point, however when slumber returned so did the suffering. Time, as with most dreams, moved differently; no matter how many times I closed my jaws the glass would not diminish in size. A concoction of glass and blood is what I tasted. Eventually the eternity of a dream ended and I awoke… It felt like coming up for air after an arctic swim. I lay there breathing heavily; flashes of the dream ran wild through my mind (as if the dream itself was not enough). I realized then, that the glass was ac