The mind is a funny thing so they say, although that’s as maybe. That’s as maybe. My mind has turned against me and that’s a problem I don’t like to talk about. Other people’s minds are working against them too and they don’t like to talk about it either. No one does. So all is fine and dandy apart from this one small and rather insignificant detail. Our minds have created society and so that’s alright. That’s a prison. Society’s a prison. But what a wonderfully civilised prison it is! It’s a prison but it’s one that we are all very grateful for. What a fantastic prison – it’s something else, isn’t it? Society is a prison we can be comfortable in, when we’re not being uncomfortable that is. We fight for our comforts as best we can.

I am afraid of the frightening thing, I am hungry for the tasty thing, joyful about the joyful thing and I’m angry about the annoying thing. I am very angry about the annoying thing. My anger is legendary. I am furthermore convinced by the convincing thing, worried by the worrying thing and very disturbed by the very disturbing thing. All is as it should be therefore, all is exactly as it was always meant to be. Why argue with the way the world always was? What benefit can there possibly be in rashly interfering with the primordial order of things? Even if this were possible, which of course it isn’t. This whole line of discussion is entirely futile, therefore. We would have been better off saying nothing at all, but such is often the way. We only know afterwards.

We say what we’re supposed to say and there is great merit in this. We speak the words that our friends expect us to speak and there is general agreement all around. How sacred this agreement is! How splendid and how sacred. What peace it brings! None may describe that peace; none may say what things it might possibly be similar to. All we can do is wait with bated breath, waiting for the Great Event that has been foretold. They say that the Great Event might turn out to be very great. Who knows, after all? They say that it might be, they say that it might be. Outspoken critics have made cynical remarks of course – we all know that, we’re all perfectly aware of that. ‘How dare they disparaged the foretold event’, you cry out, genuinely horrified. You are right to feel horror my friends – you are dead right. Your horror does you credit – you are horrified by the horrifying thing are you not? You are rightly enraged by the outrageous antics of your detractors. How could you be otherwise? It was foretold that things should be this way. It was foretold from the very beginning.

‘How dare they detract from the seriousness of the occasion,’ you murmur absentmindedly, going through the motions of a very old conversation. You are no longer concerned for that moment has already passed. It’s time to move on to other things. ‘Forget the past’, you say portentously (although no one is listening), ‘it is time to let go of all of that. All of that is water under the bridge now – all of that is water. The past never existed and the future is an illusion. You have returned from a long, long journey and you have many a strange tale to tell. None of them are true of course but they make for good entertainment all the same. If you happen to like that sort of thing, that is.

We forget what we are supposed to forget, and I’d say that we deserve credit for that. I’d say we deserve plenty of credit for that. We’ve played our part – we were supposed to forget and so we did, we forgot bang on cue. We are following the script down to the last letter. The stink of forgetfulness surrounds us on all sides and that’s a stink like no other. We are under the aegis of Hypnos here you understand – Hypnos the great, Hypnos the magnificent. ‘Roll up, roll up folks’, the barker barks, ‘roll up and see the great Hypnos demonstrate his magnificent powers’. Folk turned up in their millions, as we know. They came from all over. The shame of it is though that no one ever remembers the show…