Friday, February 4, 2011


I dreamt last night that I was an inanimate object.

I have had hallucinations like this before, but as far as I can remember, I’ve never had a full dream of the same nature until last night.

The dream was strange; surreal in its horrifying simplicity. As with most dreams, I do not remember how it started. I simply remember coming to awareness in a room full of children. From my vantage point – sideways, on the ground – I could see them running around the room, tagging each other and jumping, shouting, and giggling in all of the typical mannerisms of pure childhood innocence.

I tried to move, but could not. Nothing was mobile, not even the muscles behind my eyes. All that I could do was stare straight ahead of myself and watch the children’s feet pass playfully in front of me in the fore-ground. My view of the background was mostly obscured by the bland carpet against which my “head” seemed to be resting, but from what little view that I did have, I could catch occasional glimpses of children moving about in the distance.

Suddenly, my vision began to spin, blurring the room into little more than a smooth array of shifting colors. I could not feel or sense the motion, but from what little snippets of information I was able to gather through my unidirectional vision, I could tell that I was being hurled haphazardly across the room.

I tried as hard as I could to take in adequate information about the room around me in order to perhaps gain some insight as to my surroundings.

It was a futile effort.

Still hurdling through the air, I gave up and resigned myself to wait for resolution.

But resolution never came.

After what seemed like a physically impossible duration of time to be suspended in the air, my existence snapped with an almost physical force out of whatever object it had been occupying and instantaneously shifted into another.

This new object was of stronger prominence in the room. Although the paralysis of my inanimate vision remained, this time I viewed the room from what I gauged to be approximately four feet above the ground. I was apparently standing against a wall, as well, as I could see much of the room from this new angle.

There was nothing particularly striking about the chamber; it was simply the sort of thing that one might expect to find at a typical preschool, daycare, or kindergarten.

The children, however, were a different story.

I had not noticed it from my view on the carpet, but it was, from my new perspective, beginning to strike me as very odd that the children did not have faces.

That is certainly not to imply that their skulls were blank; far from it. Starting at where the hairline would have been had they had hair and stretching down to the bottom of the chin, the areas their faces would have typically occupied were covered in thick, misty fields of shifting, swirling particles. Their faces were continuously changing, at times thick and rippling like a liquid and at other times wispy and fragile, like gentle bundles of loose sand caught in a desert breeze.

Their expressions were constantly changing, shifting and reacting to events in the room around us, but seemingly without reason or specific meaning, at least not to my limited human-object understanding.

Aside from my lack of ability to control any aspect of my being, I was quickly realizing that something was not quite right with my environment.

Nothing seemed to fit.

The more that I examined my surroundings; the closer that I looked at the objects visible within my fixated, stationary gaze, the more out of place it all seemed.

I’m not sure what was so wrong with the room.

There was just an overall surrealism to the chamber, as though things had been placed too carefully on the shelves and walls.

As I scrutinized the room’s other non-mobile inhabitants, trying to distinguish specifically what was bothering me about the place, one of the phantom-like humaniform creatures approached me.

All of the creatures wore non-descript, drab, pastel-shaded gowns, indicating no signs of gender. I watched, still staring straight ahead, as the young creature approached my perspective window and rapped twice with the backs of her knuckles straight onto what I had assumed up to this point was functioning as my face. However, before her hand contacted with my falsely perceived flesh, it was met with an abrupt and heavy resistance before bouncing away with an unsettlingly low-pitched yet resonating tone.

Again, as part of the same continuous movement, the seemingly frail hand struck once more upon the invisible barrier separating her from myself.

Could she see me?

I tried to speak, but should have known it was pointless.

I had no mouth.

I had no sense but my predetermined line of sight and the muffled sounds outside of whatever unknown entity to which my consciousness seemed to be tethered.

One more knock.

Then she spoke.

It was clear upon her sudden vocalization that, if gender even existed amongst these beings, she had to have been female.

I had never before encountered such a beautifully resonate and feminine sound in all of my existence.

“Hello?” she queried, half out of simple curiosity and half as though sincerely expecting a response.

Her voice shimmered before me...felt as soft cloth upon the fingertips...tasted of the sweetest exotic fruits...

For a moment, the bitter synesthesia of the waveform was overwhelming.

Surely, she knew that I was there.

What was I?

Where was I?

Was I at all?

I had to try to communicate. I stared out for another moment at the shifting colors of the being’s face.

They were fluid and serene, resembling very closely the trails left behind by sheets of water shearing across large, flat panes of glass. Shades of blue and dull silver and bright vermilion pulsated slowly across and around her face in no recognizable pattern or frequency.

The sensation that followed is impossible to quantify with language.

Even in conscious retrospect, I can not make any fraction of sense out of the feeling.

To put it simply, imagine attempting to conjure an entire respiratory system from nothing for the sole task of producing some sort of tone to make one’s seemingly ethereal presence known.

Although no lungs or vocal chords ever manifested, the invisible encasement around me began to vibrate.

And with that vibration came a distinct crystal resonance.

And with that resonance came a tone.

A pitch; a sound that made her start back in surprise.

Her face changed from the blue-silver, watery mask to a gold and brown sandy texture. Particles began to float, in large groups, away from her face, suspending themselves at specific lateral distances from the shifting masses of the mask.

Her shock dissipated, and as she once more approached my prison, features began to emerge from the particles, as though being pushed through from behind by some unseen force. A woman’s face finally replaced the sandy mask, and the remaining particles snapped back and around her head into a shape vaguely resembling human hair.

“Hello?” she inquired again.

She rapped against the glass once more and leaned in for a closer look.

Something was wrong with her face; as though it was too carefully arranged like the items in the room.

“Hello?” she asked one last time with a sense of urgency, knocking forcefully this time with the front of her fist.

I awoke immediately and with a violent jolt the instant her fist hit the barrier and sat instinctively up onto my elbows, staring into the dark in front of me.

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