Hopefully the title indicates that this post is a little disturbing.
Last night I took some melatonin for insomnia, since it's supposed to facilitate deep sleep while also encouraging vivid dreams. I fell asleep right away and dreamed I was in a slightly altered facsimile of my home, trapped and terrified because an angry man was attempting to get in through the window. Cut to the next scene. He is lying inert on the balcony and his head is resting a few inches away from his body. Close inspection of the wound exposes a total lack of blood or any other body fluid. Does this physiological abnormality indicate the inhumanity of his temperament and form, or the collective tendency to disassociate from the suffering of perceived enemies? Did I kill him myself? The thought results in even more anxiety because of how unlikely it is that law enforcement will ever believe I acted in self defense given my disturbing art and writing. Inside, 'the house has rearranged itself again. My old friend Bobby, the one who claimed his family was part of a serial killer cult, is there and he explains the reason behind the attempted intrusion. He says the man is part of a recorded trauma recycling itself through similar personalities and events, as each individual is driven by an external consciousness and assimilated into its history. Looking outside broad picture windows into the front yard, I see a Chinese man pushing a baby carriage in circles faster than my eyes can follow. This image is a bleed-through from another timestream, appearing as a short circuit interrupted and reconnected in rapid succession, a flawed temporal translation whose effect is dizzying. The man is a victim of the event whose daily minutae are regenerated with every successive retelling of the same morbid story. I open the back door again and where the balcony was is a sharply sloping wooden staircase leading down into an overgrown, abandoned yard. The geometry of the steps reveals nested visual projections overlapping and coalescing with the expected form. Embedded in the structure of this image are massive dogs whose morphological mimicry has repeated the pattern and color of wood and grass. Aligned along the steps, blending into near incoherence with the pale yellows and tans of the lawn, are dozens of them. I understand that they are here to protect me and to transition the space and time surrounding the house towards a new cycle of events.