Wild Horses

The scary space noises were starting up again. ‘No, no, don’t make the scary space noises come again,’ I wanted to say. I didn’t say it though because I was too scared. I didn’t say anything. Don’t make the scary space noises I wanted to say only I didn’t. Did you ever get the feeling that you were stuck in the oral gratification stage but you didn’t have a mouth? I wanted to eat the world but then the world turned on me and started eating me instead. I wanted to eat everything in sight but now I was on the run, beating a hasty retreat. I was in the unreal universe too frightened to see anything, too frightened to encounter anything. ‘Don’t show me reality, don’t show me reality,’ I blubbered helplessly. I didn’t even know that reality was reality. I didn’t know what it was. I just thought that it was the scary thing that I didn’t want to know about. It popped up in unexpected corners, startling me out of my wits. It popped up like a jack-in-the-box. It was very, very spooky. It was very, very spooky, very, very frightening and it scared me more than words could say. I didn’t even know that it was reality – I just thought it was the thing I had to run away from. I just thought that it was the bad thing. I was in the unreal universe, the universe that was made up of my own running away. Everything was rubbish in that world including me. I was frightened by the manifestations, frightened by the unearthly phantasmagoria. I was terrified beyond measure – giant horses with strange spooky eyes galloped by. They made loud terrible neighing sounds as they went and their eyes rolled fearsomely. Foam was coming out of their mouths in great yellowish clumps and this foam became worlds, fecund and feverish. These worlds were full of furious activity. They were teeming; they were boiling over with frenetic, feverish fecundity. This was the power of life itself, I realized, and found myself overcome with an even greater terror than before. Life itself was the enemy, it occurred to me. Life was the horror that had to be curtailed at any price. Instead of terror I now felt immense hatred, hatred on an unprecedented scale. The hatred gave me strength. It was my task to stamp out life wherever it arose, I told myself. It was my solemn duty. I would become a customs officer, or a minister of religion, or perhaps a manager in Human Resources. Then all of a sudden the dream was over. I stepped out of the Dreaming Chamber and made my way slowly back to where the others were. No one looked at me. They looked away, embarrassed. I knew that I had let myself down again. I had failed the test.

 

 

 

 

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