The toy box in my bedroom. A short story. – Nina

Once upon a time, perhaps in another dimension of sorts. Or perhaps an altered reality ( a parallel to the norm which had been departed ). There was a world… it was a dark world like our own although the visions and communications to the mind lay shrouded in an unknown; as to wake up drunk in an amusement park in an abandoned ghost town. All those who enter this realm are intoxicated… euphoric… Or confused.

In this place the laws of physics are often bent, finding oneself transporting from one place to the next. Perhaps flying over the maps of which the reality created unto itself. It is itself; a living and growing place. It’s a place you’ve never been, but you have, faces you’ve never seen but it’s as though a permanent dejavu. Traveling along to its ominous melody.

I find myself in this place often. I climb under the barbed wire and war torn trenches just to see how deep this rabbit hole goes, the blood and destroyed homes visions of viciously broken families. Different tribes that dwell in this place and different spirits.

I’ve seen myself touched by the souls of the dead, although strangling me and taking my breath… killing me, I and only I entrusted with Devine powers to to speak amongst the spiritual realm…and flying across an infinite ocean. I wish I could go back to those times in this place.

This is a violent place, mostly deserted  I have been killed, I’ve killed, had sex many times. I’ve been killed many times in this place and seen life simply placed back into my chest. Leaving me unsure if death is real. There is no contemplation here, too much fog for one to adress mathematics once arrived.

I found myself in horrific post war slums, a child with no parents… There was a mattress and toy box. I’m around 5 years old. As the box opens…I’m not sure exactly what these toys, these memories, they see me, they all see me. You see it was me in the the box. Everything I’ve ever known. In this box. In this place.

When one finds themselves in this place… it can be dangerous. To see light amidst the fog, is… blinding enlightenment, a simple light; it’s as though the heart you use in this place stops beating but… There is no heart. You are always …Gone or missing… One thing is for sure, you are very much: alone.

Of course there is a way out, isn’t there? I think as you are reading this you might be beginning to understand. The subconscious; the infinite abstract of emptiness in form. Not simply the universe seeing itself. Not simply an imaginary delusion of grandiose proportion. That little voice sketched in your head… that lingering feeling in the back of your mind….

Nina… it’s time to wake up…

 

 

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