Where the colors of amber and honey seem to melt into one, and the whole scene is encapsulated in this sweet crystallized state, my head begins to droop. Nothing changes around me except I am now drifting off into slumber. The crystallized honeycomb pattern of my mind’s dreams, thoughts, and images now playing on a silver screen. That is when “IT” appears.
Everyone has their own IT. Pockets of memories come alive and are retold in the mind. Where faces are stored and fears are kept secret, they now run rampant under your eyelids. Dreams move like slow, stagnant syrup. The grooves of the mind create realities, new identities, and false truths that muddle while we rest. It is not much of a rest, actually.
Flecks of light fight through the eyelids while we sleep. Alone here in the mind, comatose and unable to wake or move. The ultimate fear is that the fight will be lost against IT. No one else is here, it moves slower than concrete and you’re stuck, searching for the door that brings you back to reality.
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