The Creeping Ichor
a good way of therapeutic note to deal with a nightmare in the aftermath of its event as to fleece
its malevolent tenure, is a shake-out by the might of the proverbial
pen; the crude bits of its carrion left to simmer in the floating memory
should be added to the cauldron of imagination. so here we go:
Woke up with one of my strangest dreams up to now.
No moans escaped to the open, but my alter ego in that stark landscape painted in dirty puce and slate tones cried out his anxiety in a shrill rapidfire mixed with anger and disbelief. Parallel to these panic-stricken antics, detached and observing, not merely looking passively from aside or above, was a part of me intently, intensely and fired by a clinical curiousity digging into the trauma.
Apparently I had lost overnight all of my teeth on the left-hand side of my upper and lower jaw, which raised more puzzlement than distress and while bad enough; in view of what came to pass next, it was merely a laughable minute detail of the full horrific picture.
My palate was gone and so was my throat: the back of my skull first, then the entire facial skeleton was exposed to the bare eyes like a X-ray picture: a hazy greyish white mass marshalled into a filigreed structure of a quaint beauty, like frosted smoke thawing gently on an atramental backdrop, engulfed my sight and bound my troubled soul to an unwavering glare, that allowed no twilight wings to pick me free, to drift myself along the merciful whispers of the solar wind, that carries itself beyond the burning vortices where new worlds and new hellish forms are born to the restful shores outwith the lode stone in the heavens.
The senses numbed and that repelling intimacy with this forsaken apparel waning, the the vision shifted to an enhanced close-up of my right cheek, concentrating on a spot just under the cheekbone. My skin didn't look anything as in physical reality; it had the colour of a soft brown egg and the same smooth texture, completely hairless without any shallows nor pores to mar its fair evenness, and at such close range it rather would be mistaken for the surface of an extraneous planet, somehow unnaturally sleek in design with a thin atmosphere and tidally locked to bask with no end under the rays of a dull sunset.
Suddenly, an asperous crack dented the skin like a dark varicose vein from which a creature slithered out in a movement that was both furtive and deliberate as to foreclose a spoor goading me to its den and from there one an assessment of its vile and treacherous schemes. The creature defied classification and shifted intermittently between shapes and phyla, almost quicker than the eye could register, but not so to reveal itself in a fuliginous succession, from a thin and prospecting centipede to a slow-witted lizard and back again.
The invertebrate's behaviour spoke of derision and danger, the dawdling reptile struggled to keep its cowardice in check and more weak traits wouldn't have evaded my scrutiny if the time factor hadn't be in my disadvantage, while also my own fascination failed to resist the dual assault by aversion and dread.
With its disappearance, the dream ended.
Woke up with one of my strangest dreams up to now.
No moans escaped to the open, but my alter ego in that stark landscape painted in dirty puce and slate tones cried out his anxiety in a shrill rapidfire mixed with anger and disbelief. Parallel to these panic-stricken antics, detached and observing, not merely looking passively from aside or above, was a part of me intently, intensely and fired by a clinical curiousity digging into the trauma.
Apparently I had lost overnight all of my teeth on the left-hand side of my upper and lower jaw, which raised more puzzlement than distress and while bad enough; in view of what came to pass next, it was merely a laughable minute detail of the full horrific picture.
My palate was gone and so was my throat: the back of my skull first, then the entire facial skeleton was exposed to the bare eyes like a X-ray picture: a hazy greyish white mass marshalled into a filigreed structure of a quaint beauty, like frosted smoke thawing gently on an atramental backdrop, engulfed my sight and bound my troubled soul to an unwavering glare, that allowed no twilight wings to pick me free, to drift myself along the merciful whispers of the solar wind, that carries itself beyond the burning vortices where new worlds and new hellish forms are born to the restful shores outwith the lode stone in the heavens.
The senses numbed and that repelling intimacy with this forsaken apparel waning, the the vision shifted to an enhanced close-up of my right cheek, concentrating on a spot just under the cheekbone. My skin didn't look anything as in physical reality; it had the colour of a soft brown egg and the same smooth texture, completely hairless without any shallows nor pores to mar its fair evenness, and at such close range it rather would be mistaken for the surface of an extraneous planet, somehow unnaturally sleek in design with a thin atmosphere and tidally locked to bask with no end under the rays of a dull sunset.
Suddenly, an asperous crack dented the skin like a dark varicose vein from which a creature slithered out in a movement that was both furtive and deliberate as to foreclose a spoor goading me to its den and from there one an assessment of its vile and treacherous schemes. The creature defied classification and shifted intermittently between shapes and phyla, almost quicker than the eye could register, but not so to reveal itself in a fuliginous succession, from a thin and prospecting centipede to a slow-witted lizard and back again.
The invertebrate's behaviour spoke of derision and danger, the dawdling reptile struggled to keep its cowardice in check and more weak traits wouldn't have evaded my scrutiny if the time factor hadn't be in my disadvantage, while also my own fascination failed to resist the dual assault by aversion and dread.
With its disappearance, the dream ended.
Comments
Might be worth elaborating on at some point.
The Missus. x