It’s only recently, during hypnagogic states, that I’ve heard people talk or whisper and see grotesque images in my mind like I was playing a nasty film. The scene starts with bleeding voodoo dolls looking similar to those on KoЯn’s Issues CD-cover, except that the voodoo dolls look slaughtered. One looked like it had its throat slit, and the other had loose limbs. I’m not sure what that place is, but I’m afraid, as it’s gradually dragging me into it, as though I belonged there.

I’m scared of falling asleep. Instead of finding silence, I find myself in a noisy world that I deny. It’s not mine, and it’s not me. This fiasco is making my scalp bleed. Someone put me some gloves on before I go to sleep? The next thing is hearing movements in my neighbour’s room, although he’s currently away. Do you know that moment before you fall asleep? That very moment before you get carried away into dreamland… the conscious part of you is still awake, it can already hear the music or voices, movements which are in dreamland. Very often, you get a couple of hypnic jerks which don’t stop you from falling asleep, but to me, they are like a pinch in the body, as though signalling “Don’t fall asleep yet!” I prefer it this way. I need this reminder that I am, in reality, not falling.

Imagine I tell this to people! They’ll ask me, “What’s your drug?” I realised it’s easier to lie than telling the truth, which is simply “Tea and biscuits.” Instead, I say “Heroin” and show them the bruise on my vein, which I got from my most recent blood test. A big thank you to that rubbish female nurse causing that bruise. Male doctors, male mathematicians, male architects, and blind people have the most beautiful and skilful hands and wouldn’t bruise me like that. Anyhow, do I even look like I do drugs? It’s biscuits, hence the ugly thighs. Fat pads inside out. Would you contemplate smoking a cigarette instead of eating a biscuit? Which one is the evil temptation anyway? Or is temptation always evil? I don’t know.

Maybe I want neither and only wish to dance with Fred Astaire to Tom Waits’ Dead and Lovely. I want no temptation that would harm my organs and damage my self-esteem. Would Fred even like the music or even understand the sentiments expressed in that song? Or swap roles – dance with Tom Waits to Astaire’s Puttin’ on the ritz. No! What a ludicrous scene.

All answers are wrong. The building blocks of life are carbon and oxygen, they say. I’m not sure about that. I doubt the building of blocks and that they constitute anything. Something that came out of nothing ultimately is nothing. Why would elements combine together in the first place? Inborn characters that know what they want and need. If only this characteristic was evident in all humans, there’d be more determination and less fear. How would you like that? So what we pursue is what our heart is? No. Do we pursue to feel alive? No.

Humanity is an undecided version of the Periodic Table. Our only aspiration is to become as perfect as our elements. Know our enemies, friends and family. The rest is merely untrue. I always thought about what distinguishes us from everything is our undying love. Now I need confirmation.

Are my disturbing hypnagogic icons the result of calcium and magnesium deficiency despite the high amount of fresh produce that I consume? So the soul’s job is to look after the elements in your body…as if you haven’t already got enough problems.

My soul, my soul, Rene, touch my soul, “thought constitutes the nature of thinking substance.”

Who wouldn’t want thought to be a substance that you can touch?

Being human and beyond human – what’s the real thing you wonder. I don’t know. Give me a kiss, and we shall find out. If our lips transport a spark, that’ll be the magic of matter, but what we feel inside is always a tricky one. Atoms would know immediately what the real deal is – we’re nowhere as perfect because we overthink about questions that lead us nowhere. If ‘thought’ is more powerful than ‘matter’, then what am I going to do?

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