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Subconscious Storm – The questions of illusion – Part 3

The shivering cold, the drifting ache, the cutting wind spray; it was all pointless. Not in the sky nor the deep just the lukewarm of churning stillness. Rocking back and forward always in motion, yet never arriving.

All emotion seemed futile except escapism. So I escaped into my head. Dreaming yet conscious, I drifted above and sensed a feeling.

I saw infantile images of horses running. It flickered like a propaganda movie. Birds flying, up and down looping the same story. I would splash all day to earn my right to fall unconscious and watch the birds fly so I could be weightless for a moment. When it was finished the cycle compounded the reality that I had just created another empty universe.

As I slept awake I saw a bird swirling above my head. Its silhouette shrieked of hope. As suddenly as it appeared it was gone, but it dropped a small round thing. I quickly paddled to the dollop hoping I was not asleep. It was a worm. A caterpillar, green and unsightly. Yet it was the only thing in my life worth protecting. The only thing which made my spirit leap. I was tempted to eat it but then felt terrible for the thought. I had been here before, but for some strange reason things were different. It was daylight and although the butterfly kept no secrets I did not know its intentions.

“I must have been awake” for the sun sank and rose cyclic with the tide yet the caterpillar remained. I lay on my back and rested it on my chest. With the warmth of my organs I incubated it, for it was safest there. After one particularly cold night I felt a shifting on my head. A rustling in my hair. As the sun turned the water silver, I noticed there was a butterfly walking down my cheek. Its little legs tickled.

I admired it distantly and dared not make a move although it was so close. I was still bleeding and the thought to eat it although innate, seemed peculiarly unnatural.

The day was delightful. My heart rose and fell with the waves. I heard a voice carried like the sound of many leaves shimmering on the waters edge. It was weary but sincere.

“The horses are coming!” “If you are bleeding they can smell your scent on the air!!”.

“What does this mean?” I cried.

The voice did not answer, but continued “The horses are coming…thundering horses”

Fear gripped my soul for I could not stop the bleeding. “Will some body save me for I am lost?”

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