Something for the Weakened

Archive for February, 2012

Interwoven Between Three Sides Revolving

February 19th, 2012 by Alastair

I generally try to avoid writing about dreams on here (recently I’ve mainly avoided trying to write anything on here, but that’s another matter altogether). Partly because I seldom remember my own night thoughts, but mainly because listening to people bang on about them in regular life is normally bloody tedious. I apologise for breaking this embargo, but I awoke a few nights ago after mind took me some intriguing places that I’m going to inflict upon you all. Consciousness came upon me around 5AM, which was a bit harsh frankly, but I don’t recall it kicking in with a shuddering jolt or waking in a cold sweat – as I’ve stated before, I’m still yet to ever have a nightmare, due to either not having anything in my life that particularly scares me or some hitherto untapped sociopathic tendencies. Once I’ve left Mr. Sandman’s embrace, it is very rare that I can get him to hug me again, so lay there, letting my mind wander. I believe that that was when I began recalling the dream that had preceded my waking. Perhaps I was making it up in my semi-lucid state, but I don’t think so.

I had been lying in what appeared to be a bath, though not one that I really recall having lain in before. I was calm, comfortable. Ten I looked down at my body. Rather than the scrawny, pot bellied thing I’m used to hanging my head upon, my eyes were met by an altogether different sight. Beneath me was a swirling mass of amorphous, constantly shifting flesh. It didn’t seem to actually have a surface, but was constantly shifting, folding in on itself, casually going through it’s motions. It was halfway between the end of Akira (but less luridly coloured) and watching one of those machines that kneads dough (watching the dough, not the machine). I watched this for a while, fascinated. There was no fear, no real emotional reaction at all, just me taking an interest in this unusual development in my torso. As I was lying there, recounting the thing, it occurred to me that this slowly writhing mass resembled the speculative descriptions of how four dimensional entities might look were they to appear in our three dimensions, only less crystalline, more organic.

I remember nothing else about the dream, nor do I know what it was that woke me. But I pretty certain that it wasn’t a Cronenbergian terror that my body was no longer my own.