And then, when my god speaks, finally, it’s in a high squeaky voice and I think “What the…”
Shards of monolithic chaos, monstrous pieces of geometric crystal crashing together and flying apart without regard for any proper sense of reason, what was happening here? A world in a dream smashed to bits and left in disarray, but for what purpose? Sigmund is never around when I need him.
We were having the dream regularly. So many times now, maybe fifty or one hundred? Wizard had lost count; it had been going on for so long, since early childhood. Can’t get any decent sleep anymore, the dream precludes all other restful thought. Only work works to calm.
It’s all about the folding, you know, not unlike the surface of the brain’s cortex. So many folds, so much surface area, a memory can really get lost and forgotten in all that vast shelf-space, perhaps only making itself re-known once again in a lifetime. As a carnival ride circles endlessly, passing by near and far but not stopping, only to alight at the last real moment in time, one last second to see the truth before the end.