An Alternate Slice of Reality
In an alternate slice of reality, your sims live on the edge. Once you upload them to the gallery, they are no longer safely in your hands. They are in the hands of others. Others who may not share ...
Forum Discussion
The Lake
Her Perspective III
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At night, I sleep with my eyes open. I don’t talk about it. Who would believe such a thing?
And you see the thing about dreaming, is you don’t know if it is really a dream,
or if it is some alternate reality.
I am a traveler of realities.
Spoiler
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The visions blur. The sounds collide. The worlds tilt and become one. A dangerous singularity.
I slide in and out of realities like a baby breathing. I’m just that kind of girl. The kind of girl who sees things she doesn’t always understand,
and just rushes headlong in before thinking on how to act,
or whether to act at all.
https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/53061651191_4c30f80ace_c.jpg
https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/53061068157_be00758c91_c.jpg
https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/53061451776_f5a70e5b2d_c.jpg
I have never panicked before. But I am panicked now. I have seen many things that would make men cry in terror.
Demons in the folded space of sky. Giants on the asteroids. Angels walking through the walls.
I dream in languages long forgotten by men and spoken long before
I hit something in the road and stopped to change a tire.
I consider this place. And this is what I see,
while sleeping with my eyes open:
What is truth?
Here are the people walking down the paths of life, people walking with dead eyes.
Headed for the lake.
https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/53061616006_38906f8238_c.jpg
Black or white, black or white, black or white.
It’s always black or white. Grey is an illusion that tricks you into believing you can walk the line of both.
You can’t.
https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/53061032727_a0b0fcb5c5_c.jpg
Black or white. Black or white. Dead or alive. Dead or alive, dead or alive.
Open or shut, Open or shut, Open or shut.
We live our lives open or shut.
The way has been shut. And I see the closed door. But I do not know who has closed it. Nor do I know why. The way has been shut and the Queen is coming. The mad, mad Queen is coming.
https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/53061615971_9e5f5d7145_c.jpg
They lay in the water, unmoving, people in the water, unmoved.
Floating on their backs like dead logs. Within reach but unreachable.
Their eyes are open, but dead. Their mouths speak but they say nothing. Endlessly, mindlessly, unconnected to one another.
Cogs in wheels. Sheeps in pens.
The dead in the past.
The dead in the past.
https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/53061615971_9e5f5d7145_c.jpg
They don’t move but remain tethered to the past, like floating on the water.
Dream or nightmare. Dream or nightmare.
Awake or asleep, awake or asleep.
Living or dead.
Living or dead.
They just lay there.
Floating in desolation.
Floating in isolation.
People who lived their lives every day, thinking that they are still alive.
People who had died from sorrow or regret.
People who had choices but never made them.
The living dead. Never escaping their past and long past trying.
https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/53042619215_85f28546a6_c.jpg
And I had almost become one of them.
https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/53062005145_fe0e9cb22b_c.jpg
This was the lake.
The past.
Long live the past.
Never see the future.
Long live the past.
https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/53042384459_28a890fe08_c.jpg
The visions blur. The sounds collide. The worlds tilt and become one. A dangerous singularity.
I slide in and out of realities like a baby breathing. I’m just that kind of girl. The kind of girl who sees things she doesn’t always understand,
and just rushes headlong in before thinking on how to act,
or whether to act at all.
https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/53061651191_4c30f80ace_c.jpg
https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/53061068157_be00758c91_c.jpg
https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/53061451776_f5a70e5b2d_c.jpg
I have never panicked before. But I am panicked now. I have seen many things that would make men cry in terror.
Demons in the folded space of sky. Giants on the asteroids. Angels walking through the walls.
I dream in languages long forgotten by men and spoken long before
I hit something in the road and stopped to change a tire.
I consider this place. And this is what I see,
while sleeping with my eyes open:
What is truth?
Here are the people walking down the paths of life, people walking with dead eyes.
Headed for the lake.
https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/53061616006_38906f8238_c.jpg
Black or white, black or white, black or white.
It’s always black or white. Grey is an illusion that tricks you into believing you can walk the line of both.
You can’t.
https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/53061032727_a0b0fcb5c5_c.jpg
Black or white. Black or white. Dead or alive. Dead or alive, dead or alive.
Open or shut, Open or shut, Open or shut.
We live our lives open or shut.
The way has been shut. And I see the closed door. But I do not know who has closed it. Nor do I know why. The way has been shut and the Queen is coming. The mad, mad Queen is coming.
https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/53061615971_9e5f5d7145_c.jpg
They lay in the water, unmoving, people in the water, unmoved.
Floating on their backs like dead logs. Within reach but unreachable.
Their eyes are open, but dead. Their mouths speak but they say nothing. Endlessly, mindlessly, unconnected to one another.
Cogs in wheels. Sheeps in pens.
The dead in the past.
The dead in the past.
https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/53061615971_9e5f5d7145_c.jpg
They don’t move but remain tethered to the past, like floating on the water.
Dream or nightmare. Dream or nightmare.
Awake or asleep, awake or asleep.
Living or dead.
Living or dead.
They just lay there.
Floating in desolation.
Floating in isolation.
People who lived their lives every day, thinking that they are still alive.
People who had died from sorrow or regret.
People who had choices but never made them.
The living dead. Never escaping their past and long past trying.
https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/53042619215_85f28546a6_c.jpg
And I had almost become one of them.
https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/53062005145_fe0e9cb22b_c.jpg
This was the lake.
The past.
Long live the past.
Never see the future.
Long live the past.
