A place for dreams.

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....

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...