Dream Log 137: There is a light that never goes out

Moving house to house, city to city must’ve triggered my parcopresis. Tomorrow marks the end of my first week living in Cel’s apartment and yet it took my bowel approximately 3 and a half days to acclimatize to her new environment and finally liberate herself.

All I can say is, what a relief to finally purge out all that pent-up shit inside me. Overall, I’d give this week a five star. On second thought, a 4.5. Only because yesterday morning, I woke up drenched in cold sweat after dreaming about the Guernica coming to life, blurring the lines between dream and reality. Reality is dark as it is but stepping inside the Guernica felt like getting flung into the fiery pits of hell where space is ambiguous, time is inexistent and chaos and pain are recurring experiences of the painted creatures.

In the dream, I became the woman in the painting, the one screaming in agony, clutching her dying child. Only in my case, my child was the alien creature, M. planulae. It felt as though the horned creature, a mix of a bull and Xavi's features, was the devil responsible for killing my baby. The other dying creatures, who resembled the faces of dawg, Romie, Linda, Brenda and Cel, seemed to be victims of the horned creature as well. We were all trapped in this cycle of agony, hurting together. I felt her pain as if it were my own and I was grieving the loss of my alien baby, M. planulae, and the life I left behind not so long ago. This agonizing loop seemed to stretch on forever, with no end in sight.

Amidst the depths of despair, I sensed the faceless creature, the same one living inside me that I encountered during that brief split I had when I was about to get sacked, extending her arms out as if making an effort to lift me out of my hell. The more I focused on the faceless creature, the faster my sorrows dissipated, and

the dying creatures around me gradually vanished before my eyes. But instead of instant relief, I felt an unsettling numbness enveloping every fiber of my being.

I sat in the darkness for a while, listening to the sound of my thumping heart, the thick blood coursing through my veins and the incessant ticking of an inexistent clock. "Lub dub, lub dub, lub dub," my heart cried out, each beat growing louder, amplifying my own physical presence. "Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock," mocked the imaginary clock, reminding me of every second I waste mortality.

And then—silence. Deep, profound and terrifying silence.

Finally, neon lights flickered in the distance. The lights sparkled and danced to the eerie baritone voice of Morrisey singing, “There’s a light that never goes out, there is a light that never goes out, there is a light that never goes out” over and over again as if beckoning me, offering a glimmer of anticipation at the end of the tunnel.