After listening to Fredrik Thordendal's special defects album "Sol Niger Within" i got in a !!STRANGE MOOD!! and figured out i wanted to get back to batshit poetry.
A part of the lyrics reminded of nightmares i had once, about completely abandoning life, the soul, existence of existence itself, in turn for gaining existence as something equally valuable, i mean, not only dreaming your another, but dreaming your something completely different, infact i forgot about my own existence, i forgot that out there, somewhere in the aoirgjpasorughorduhpgpireh is a body, with a beating heart, and a steady breath, lying on his bed, when told by his mother to wake the fuck up and do his stuff before going to school, but no, fuck that, that person didnt matter, then i went on, it felt like waking from a very deep afternoon nap, hammering headache, complete disorientation of time and space, then suddenly just caught in doing business of no value. I described theese dreams/actual astral projections/whatever happended as "Strolling down the grey pavements of the grey plateu of leng in the world of the black sun" since the sun looked weird, it was completely black, except for an infinitesmal infinitely white spot in the center of it, it shined black light of no defined temperature, burning freezing and yet, so comfortable. In the start it looked like where i live, rural area, but then it became more and more quad'ish, think LA, completely square corridors of square blocks of square houses, at last it was just completely square featureless appartment like monoliths of random sizes and at last as what lovecraft plateu "leng" looked like. Then suddenly, a flash of existential pain and i was back into "my" body, controlling my limbs, moving my eyes, and speaking my voice, and then in swift movements continuing life on earth.
Stories:
First experience:
"it's too late now. over the brink of the interior gravitational abyss. i
spiral downwards.
inwards. torn apart into multiple i's. the totality of which i used to
perceive as the absolute self. all processes are rapidly slowed down.
contracting. dissolving. freezing out. tidal gravitational forces tend to
infinity. the godhead is pulling me beyond the swartzschild sphere. the
theoretical maximum value for potential.
spatio-temporality inverted. space and time are turned inside out." Sol Niger Withing "Existence out of joint"
Waking up.. no.. no, no, wait, this is not awake, i am conscious and yet not awake, swirling deathgalaxy of third eye sights, the cosmic junction, i see it through my soul, this swirling thing wich i cannot actually see. My limbs.. they wont move.. what is this(Fading perception of existence, only now i have come to the conclusion that it was a sleep paralysis) faded out, whatever it was, i am here now, i am awake.. uhh the headache.. this world is grey and colourless, is this what the Thunderman describes as "Dead and Monochrome"? This is my home, my room, my chair, and there is my computer. Now i grab this and go there, then grab that and go another place. Now i am alive, and i am free, (false freedom) i shall take a walk down this street.. damn, how long have i been sleeping? This place has changed, everything is flat and easy.. and i dont remember theese concrete pavements.. oh whatever.. damn military stuff.. what is that thing in the distance? I cannot describe it, nor even perceive it, what are thoose two blackwhite pinches in space? I never saw the sun for real, i can remember its image, i never looked at the sun, never, ever. Now i shall continue my walk, and converse with theese random people. "David, get the hell up, the car can come any time, get showered!" and so ended my earliest memory of the Sol Niger quantiverse.
Hope the story isnt too horrible, if i get positive feedback, i will continue my batshit poetry, if you want, its gonna get more sick, i promise, the later memories are horrible, really horrible, indescribeable horrible.
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Topic: Screams of distress from the world of the black sun (Read 647 times)