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oneiroid psychosis

02.06.2033 | 06:00 pm
location: Colville, WA

This is not how I remember it. The road was changed. It is twisted and it used to be straight. Nothing is constant - all is in motion. The trees are moving. They do not remain at rest. How is it my mother does not bump into the trees that are moving? I follow my mother. I am afraid, but I follow. I have to share my strange thoughts with someone. We are sitting on a bench. The bench seems low. It, too, has moved. "The bench is low," I say, "Yes," says my mother. "This isn’t how it used to be. How come there are no people around? There are usually lots of people and it is Sunday and there are no people. This is strange." All these strange questions irritate my mother who then says she must be going soon. While I continue thinking I'm in a kind of nowhere.

The outside was moving rather swiftly, everything seemed topsy turvey - things were flying about. It was very strange. I wanted to get back to the quiet very badly but when I got back I couldn't remember where anything was.

There are no days, no nights; sometimes it is darker than other times - that's all. It is never quite black, just dark grey. There is no such thing as time - there is only eternity. There is no such thing as death - nor heaven and hell - there is only a timeless, hateful, spaceless worsening of things. You can never go forward; you must always regress into this horrific mess...

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