Teetering on the edge of oblivion, the black mask of reality torn asunder. Memories return. Afterlife images, meaningless surrender.
I was not tired when I heard the word whispered in my ear that night. Grey and dreary, starlight reflections on the wet asphalt. Colorless. Apart somehow, unreal. They told me to go home, now.
So I did, listening to my footsteps echo on the empty street. Urban homesteads with stoops for faces. Cold, lonely. I’d dreamt this before, I thought, long ago. Like a million years by the dream clock. So much undone, so much recounted. What on earth did it all mean?