Sunday Night Dream

                Someone is trying to tell me something, lips moving without sound. They mouth “It’s here, it’s here!”, tears spill over. I can’t hear them over the enormous magnetic sound that has filled the space around us like thick gel. Unable to run, I stand and watch a structure in the distance lift upwards into the night. The buzzing hums into my chest as I panic and sweat. I look up to the sky and see five moons, split into a wonderous kaleidoscope, undulating and terrifying. I’m suddenly lifted and taken away somewhere unknown to me. I become aware that I am in a container of some kind, I feel no body. I’m just a head without a face. The unbearable sound is even louder in here. My head is gigantic and small at the same time. I’m aware that something is near me, observing me. Its presence is unkind. I don’t hear its words but I can feel their intentions. My head explodes with pain. Cells turn inside out, split into five. Pressure erupts my thoughts into fragments. Memories and words and images are just minuscule pieces turned into something new and obscene. The awful space between polar magnets becomes my mind, the electric shock of turning off. Time stretches on for eternity. I suffocate inside myself forever as I look up at the moons folding in and out of themselves, the stars dancing with them in a grotesque geometric dance.