It's getting dark inside. His brains clicked and shed some light at the back of his, thus, illuminated eyes. 'Follow my yellow light*1' He mumbles in his conscious-sleepwalks. A holy ghost with thoughts torn apart and thrown away through the gutter. He tries to fuse with his déjà vus -- the traces and the triggers of such a confused state of mind -- but his vague memories mingle and shatter every time, leaving him mourning the loss of a data killed in the formatting process. Waking up somewhere he doesn't know, then he realizes that something just happened to him. At that precise instant, he'd go blind and hear... a distant dim beat. What sound? Sound's like an echo of a thump flunk at the very back of his skull. Something emerges. What seemed lost and dead appears to be... A memory -- a rather fragmented report on sensations -- or a souvenir -- which on the contrary would seem more like a story line ? 'Which one does prevail?' 'Should one prevail?' 'Do they make one?' 'How to dissociate them.' 'Do they make sense if read apart?' The answer is here somewhere... He keeps looking...
In his actual sleep, filled with dreams and pretty lights dancing, billowing and revolving around his grayish veins, his head cannot handle this much voices until it somehow disconnects and shuts his entire being down, yet flickering, showing signs of life. Something's not right, one pulse seems off-beat.
In his actual sleep, filled with dreams and pretty lights dancing, billowing and revolving around his grayish veins, his head cannot handle this much voices until it somehow disconnects and shuts his entire being down, yet flickering, showing signs of life. Something's not right, one pulse seems off-beat.
*1 'Yellow Light' Of Monsters And Men