i dream and dream again, whereupon i am lost in some wilderness.
sometimes it's figurative wilderness. sometimes it's actual
wilderness. i get the sense it is of my own making. it often starts with a slap to the face, and i open my eyes to shadowy
figures back lit by orange light. they beat me relentlessly, asking
questions, demanding answers in a language i do not understand. other
times i am touched by fire and i open my eyes to those same shadowy
figures wielding glowing brands. sometimes i escape them, and become a wanderer in a world i do not
understand. i walk in strange places wondering how to get home, back
to something that makes sense. then the shadow men descend upon me
again, screaming about my pride, and beating me down into a perfect
kneel. they tell me i should be thankful for it, thankful for the suffering,
the boredom, the terror. but i am not thankful. i wake angry and full of hate. ghost
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