The demons threaten to surface their ruthless heads again. I clutch at the sheets in vain. They will not save me. They cannot if they wanted to. As I’m engulfed in darkness again, I can’t help but wonder if this is it. It might be. That is something I need to be prepared for. I look up to see light. Bright, dazzling white light. Oh hundreds of books I’ve read, is this what y’all were talking about? My trusty nerves of steel have deserted me. I start to shiver and the light hits me. My scrunched-up eyes feel a chill. Which quickly turns into a raging fever. I open my eyes to a tormenting sight-my dog, standing at a distance, gazing at me, imploring me to leave. I long to go stroke her head. I know I can’t. Even pictures of the subconscious won’t let you touch that which isn’t your anymore. Before I can even register what was happening, she begins to wither away, before my eyes. My subconscious is more cruel than usual today, I muse. Then I look up. Again. Boy, that was a mistake. A tall silhouette is approaching me. Recognition dawns. I step forward and something slices at my heart. I try again and *rip* across my waist. It starts to hurt. A lot. I don’t understand. I try one last time before I hit the mud. All sensation creeps away from my almost-corpse of a body. And suddenly it occurs to me. Something someone said to me.
"It’s what you do. You resist and resist until there is nothing left to resist. Until there is nothing left all together."
At long last, clarity. With resignation, I close my eyes.
And then I open them again. Wondering why my subconscious didn’t send me away, like she does in her cruel pictures.
Artist: Russ Mills (via colin-vian)