A Self-Study Within A Broken Mind

If there were foreboding signs on that morning, I missed them. I hardly paid attention to where I was going at the time, but I do not credit the mistake to the way my mind operates during the week. I had no coffee that morning, rushing into the office after a betrayal of my phone. It died during the night, reminding me to feed it as I danced in my REM cycles. It was too late in the morning to give it any juice, and it set the precedent for the rest of the morning. At the very least, the train was on time, filled with people rushing about in the same huff, but they were just going about their day. They had nary an inkling of what was about to happen, and where I’d end up. I got out of the subterranean system of machinery and considered grabbing a quick coffee at the corner cart. No. I’d get some of the machine-brewed corporate-provided darkness-in-a-cup instead, or so I thought. There, in the lobby was a guy right about my age, perhaps younger. Not a bad looking face and hair, just a li...

Now at the new notebook, of shade green, I sat at my morning coffee pondering how I could best approach Rebecca’s space and talk to her rather than fight. I had this feeling that a duel was inevitable, a struggle between the two of us comparing who could better bend her space to their will. What could she do that I wasn’t prepared for? Did Crimmy, like beast, think up dark imagery of torture and torment for Rebecca? Time drew short before work, and if I was to be stuck in this space, this notebook, I’d have to resolve it quickly. With a sharp breath, I entered Rebecca’s space high above the neighborhood. She expanded the few houses to about thirty, and each had a light on while the sky was still dark. The realistic sun simulation mirrored my reality in darkness. I was without form, but thanks to the dumb child part of my mind, Rebecca was already aware that I was there. Hopefully, she had no idea where, but when the library house exploded, I knew that she was waiting there for me. It ...