5 May 2012
With the crackle and flash of electricity in his sleeping thought, Paul wakes up again. Alone, in a desolate landscape, to each side lie separate gigantic gradients, which ascend into nothingness, Paul is at the base of a steep valley. Yet the valley is suspended in space, with darkness all around. The plummeting drop into nothing is quite clear and visible. The ridges which surround him are bleak and icy tinged black by severe frost, hardening the muddy slopes. A slowly meandering river cuts through the scene, there are no signs of life in the murky foul water. Paul watches as the river forms a falls off the edge of his current world, and, as the body of water plunges into the dark, the limbs and eyes which fill Paul’s electric blue nightmares are exposed and then lost.
Paul stands up and begins to navigate his way across the rugged terrain, crossing long ridges of ice, looking below at festering streams, black with pollution. Scanning his reflection, he notices how warped his figure looks in the oily water. Paul laughs at the strange twisting of his form and the strange rainbow of colours that surrounds his mirror image, and it is only then that he realises that it is the only sound he has heard on this world. His laughter echoes for what seems like eternity in an otherwise completely mute world. This realisation sends Paul in to something of a panic, and he begins to dart quickly across the erratic paths of ice. He reaches the other side of the river, and begins exploring,
This side of the river is still frigid and inhospitable, but, somehow, beautiful thickets of daffodils, buttercups, daisies, dandelions, forget me nots, and even one or two lamenting snowdrops line the icy paths and defy all logic. Paul drops to one knee, picks a daffodil, but it withers almost immediately and turns to dust clenched in his fist. The loss of the flower moves Paul to tears which he cannot control. Paul’s comprehension of the flower, his understanding and love, it is amplified in this arena, it is heightened to an extent where this loss, this floral bereavement, is everything to him. His entire being is filled with a pain, the screaming crashing catastrophic cacophony of grief. Paul struggles to his feet and begins to run, arms flailing and chest heaving he cannot afford to stop, he must rid himself of this feeling. As he arrives at the giant ridge of ice and rock he notices the small red door. This is new to Paul, and sends a shiver through him which he cannot differentiate between fear and excitement, or even hope. He opens the door, gingerly, and is instantly set upon. He feels himself being thrown from a great height, and feels no more.
A flash of blinding light and Paul is now in a large park. The grass here is a very light green and the sun is beating down on Paul’s back as he lies, crumpled and broken looking. Now stirring, his head has finally ceased its reeling, Paul is able to concentrate on detail and begins to take in where he is. There are no slides or swings, but there is a seating area, a square construction in stone. Two girls appear before him, of about eight or nine.
The girls are dressed in plush red jackets, with large black buttons, each wear riding helmets, covering their pigtailed curly golden locks, fastened by red silk bows. Both carry whips. Their eyes pierce Paul, spike through his heart with their cold stare. The girls slowly look at each other and smile, then return their gaze to Paul. He stands up and faces them, gingerly placing one foot in front of the other and slowly walking toward them. With every step the pounding of a large bass drum fills his mind, growing faster to match his pace. The girls smiles grow larger and their eyes wider. “Hello, my name is…” Paul ventures, but he is met with a quick and sharp reply; “we know”. Paul feels confused by this, his nose wrinkles and he raises one eyebrow. He tries again, “I don’t know where I am”, but as soon as these words are uttered, he realises that he does know these girls. They are regular visitors to the nocturnal landscapes of his mind.
The girls slowly part, and suddenly there are four, all surrounding him. Golden dust forms trails between their parting fingers and dances in the light around Paul. The girls begin to chant, three in a low key, and one, the girl who wears a ring in the shape of a monkey, who chants above the others. She looks at Paul, her lips unmoving, her voice clearly heard “May your sun be blown out like a candle, May your skin be burned like tar, May your sky be rolled up like a scroll, May your moon drip with blood.” Her eyes explode with a sparkling light and suddenly the world itself is exploding all around Paul, he finally breaks into a smile, watching the golden sparkling shimmers of light filling space like waterfalls of gold. Paul glances around him at his companions of night and smiles. They return the gesture. All link arms and walk off to find a good spot for a picnic. As they step over a stone wall, Paul tumbles, and he watches the world spin.
As he falls he sees his companion’s heads rolling around the dark and heavy grass. Their bodies writhe headless on the ground, faces insane with rage, saliva forming foamy streams around their mouths, and eyes bulging manically. They chatter, scream and laugh manically while slowly they dissolve in to nothing. Paul is thrown in to a drop like eternity, and wakes again. The familiar electric blue light, filling another new world, its crackle like an old enemy, Paul has long given up hope. He resigns himself to his eternal unconscious struggle. In a distant recess of his mind, he hears a whisper; “see you later, Paul” and a titter of laughter.
Paul's Electric Blue Nightmare (2005) • Opuss № I