As I lay in bed before sleep, I promise myself that I will ask the question. I imagine myself floating in space with countless galaxies laid out below, above, around, within. I hold onto the image as long as I can, grasping at my focus amidst a storm of warring thoughts and memories, snippets of text and faintly cascading chatter.
It's strange, like de ja vu - that feeling, suprise I guess - almost as if you have suddenly stumbled across your own mind. It is a clarity of vision when you have forgotten you have eyes, life gone supernova, awake, at last - again. When I realise I am dreaming the first thing I feel is a muted joy intermingled with a delirious wave of sweet horror. Now! Now is my chance!
I am standing on the rooftop of a building. I know this even though I see no other buildings in sight. The rooftop and everything around me is covered in a thick and lush canopy of healthy green vines. Vibrant purple flowers with large petals and glowing yellow pollen adorn the vines, and the sky is light yet a blanket of grey - no sun nor moon, a uniform embrace. I fall to my knees, scrambling to make the most of my time.
Palms to the ground I feel the grit of countless fragments, dirt and sand and soil. Sprinkled between the vines are twigs and leaves, and I lift some of them with my hands, grinding them with my fingers and watching the broken remains drift back to the rooftop. I test this world because I know I am dreaming. I snatch a flower, toss it into the air, follow its path intently. Is it real? How good is it, how accurate my mind's eye? Close to perfect, as far as I can tell. But, that's the problem; as soon as I begin to clamber through my dreams, as fast as I can tear it apart and make sense of it all it begins to fade away.
Then I remember - the question! I fill my lungs and prepare to yell, I feel hot breath scratch my throat and a strangled cry shoot from my face. I try, again and again, screaming viciously, trying to turn my anxious howling into the words that I need to voice so desperately. But all that comes out is nonsense, just yelps and noise, no matter how hard I squeeze my chest and clench my tongue. Nothing, just noise. Then it all disappears.
The flowers, the canopy, the sky - all begin to pixelate, lose sharpness, as though a storm is clouding my reception. The world turns to fizz, at first oscillating softly, then more and more violently, until the landscape erupts into a foamy mess, no form nor feeling.
...
