Instalment Eighty One

There’s a race of people worse than those we keep prisoner in mirrors, whose revenge for incarceration is to show us our world as it truly is rather than how we choose to see it. There’s a race of people you meet only in dreams. We punished them to a life of twilight non-existence, but in return we must visit them every night so as to not forget our cruelty. The dream people have become distorted, twisted and evil. They toy with us, punish us at every turn, every night. They pervert our lives, tease us with their mocking pantomimes, designed to confuse and enrage us. To dispirit us by disfiguring our daily lives.

Worse, they try to escape, to invade our world. Without bodies of their own they try and take ours.

Snoring is the warning, the alarm that Dream people are trying to cross over, trying to take a body for themselves. They suffocate you in dreams and your sleeping body reacts. You don’t have long to live. You must wake a snorer, they are not keeping you awake, they are dying. If they stop snoring by themselves and awaken to say, “Where am I,” it’s too late.