November 4th

Chapter eight Self Atlas

A dream within a dream. There are shards of me i cannot explain, splintered fragments of self, damaged in this strange nucleus of time. I am lost in this weird concoction of time , mind and space, far from the Tommy's and the Billy's i am just with self. It is a dream within a dream, just like the last one was, where i became man, yet i remain a voluptuos frame, and as i stretch my hand forth butterflies of silver escape into oblivion, as i open my mouth to scream, metal words fall to the floor anchoring me, as i try and take bold steps , each word i utter becomes flesh. Then i hear the voice in the shadows, "run" it says, and as i sprint to a large clock appears before me, with its exclamation mark of time ticking arrogantly for me to see. There is an exit in this space im in, a room without walls, it flashes neon red, i am careful what i say in this new dream world, careful of overwhelming myself with saggy pockets of flesh that belong to words which i do not mean. Why am i running from a room without walls, yet i feel it now. A throb, an electric pulse, an extra heartbeat shocking through my system, i must outwit my own self, my own tongue which speaks many languages that once upon i understood. Suddenly my tongue says something foreign and the door peels open, there is a hallway full of mesh and candied words crumbled to ash. There are nails on the floor and opposite is one word hinged on a cross, 'trust' i crucified you, funny i thought it would be fear or love, i look back to glance at the room without the walls. Wondering why it is such a cage, then trust begins to take form, it is a person on a cross, writhing and weeping, as a crimson river laps beneath it. Despite the stone in my throat, i take careful steps, avoiding the nails, and the candy words, i need to see who it is maybe i can save them, maybe they can be free. The form has taken full shape now, it is me. " You need to get out of here," she croaks, "there's blood everywhere and corpses,"

"How do i get you down, how do i leave? What corpses?" I am panicked now scared of what else the room will manifest. Scared that this self could posess me, scared that i would be trapped here. As i reach for her hand, she whispers " Dont touch me, there are too many mirrors here, we are scared of the mirrors, the mirrors created the corpses."

"I wont leave you to die here." My tongue says to her, as though it is puppeting this self, this dialogue, this room. "I wont leave you to die in the room with too many mirrors."

I feel a hand across my shoulder , the air is thick with the smell of sweat, and body rot, suddenly i feel them now, bodies lain across the floor like puzzles for me to figure out the genesis of their pain. Yet this is a strange hall, next to a strange room, and i am a strange girl with many things incomplete, i wake up in a pool of cold sweat to the sound of a thud. Something is not right, and i am in the house of mirrors all over again.