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It seemed he had been walking an for an age, as he finally crested the top of the hill. He wasn’t quite sure why he was walking up it, it was as if something had been compelling him to do so. Bu now he reached the top to find a broad and grassy plateau. He spent a minute or two looking around, to see if there was anything of note on the plateau. Then he noticed a figure sitting on a largish rock about 100 metres over ahead and to his right. Brian decided to walk over to him, to see if it was he who had compelled him to walk up the hill.
As he drew nearer to the figure, Brian seemed to think that he recognised him. He seemed of average height, with jet black hair cut short on the sides and left to grow to about 2 inches on top, all gelled up to look like a terrible, if fashionable mess. His pale skin indicated an office worker, which could be anyone, since Brian himself worked in one. But as he drew a few strides closer still, the figure turned to face him.
Brian stopped, not able to comprehend the face that stared back at him. It was his own. This wasn’t right. How could this be? Another dream? He must be having another dream. Wonderful, he thought. He started to imagine all the inventive ways in which a mirror image of himself could now try to kill him in some horrific and bloody manner.
“This is just a dream!” He shouted aloud to himself, and turned to stare at his mirror image, as if by having spoken, it should now disappear. Instead, the figure reacted by standing up, and striding over to meet Brian face to face. It stopped, only 2 metres or so away from Brian before speaking.
“Not quite, Brian” For a mirror image, it’s voice was nothing like Brians. It was deeper, much deeper, and the image spoke each word slowly and carefully, as though every slight vocal resonance held an ancient power. “but close enough. Certainly, we’re inside your head at the moment. Nothing more.”
“If we’re inside my head, this is a dream. There is no discussion.” Brian was in no mood for this. He steadied himself, expecting the image to lunge at him at the first opportunity.
“I’m not here to argue with you Brian. We have decisions to make, and little time for pointless aesthetic debates.” The voice of the image still came out slowly and meticulously, but seemed to hold an air of age and wisdom akin to fairytale wizards and wise men.
“Wait a minute. Who are you? And why are we meeting up for non-aesthetic debates inside my head?”
“A good question, certainly one that will eventually require an answer. But not now. There is too much that must be decided for you, and little enough time for that. The fewer distractions you have now, the better.” No name, then, Brian thought. Just typical. But the image seemed to be pressing the idea of decision making on his behalf, and if someone was to help making decisions for him, he damn well wanted to know who it was.
“Your name. I’m not discussing anything with anybody until I know who you are.” The words came out half-shouted, and harsher than Brian had intended, but the image didn’t seem to take offence at it.
“What would you have me tell you? I have never had a name, as such, and to be honest don’t really care for one. Just make an assumption for now. I could be your deep consciousness, I could be a fraction of a broken mind driven to schizophrenia by tragic circumstances, or I could be a psychic medium, aware of your plight and contacting you through a crystal ball in my well lit and smoky study room. What I am and who I am isn’t a matter of any great concern. The fact that you have only a few months to live is.” Brian wasn’t happy at this, but it seemed the image wasn’t about to give up anything, but then he connected to the comment that the image had never had a name, and decided to give him one, if only for something to refer to him with.
“Marcus. I’ll call you Marcus. You may not want to give me your identity, so I’m going to give you one. Is that alright with you, Marcus? His mirror seemed to read something in this that Brian did not, and seemed to be recollecting something which brought a smile to his face and a glint to his eye as he replied.
“Marcus. Yes, yes I like that. Well done Brian. I think we’ll get along just fine.”
“So what am I doing here, on this hill inside my brain?” Nice as it was to put a name to a face, Brian was still all too aware of the fact that he was dreaming, and his dreams of late had not been among the most pleasant he’d ever experienced.
“I should think that would be obvious, Brian.”
“Well, it’s not obvious.” He retorted quickly.
“Brian, you have contracted a lethal form of cancer, and you’re going to die very soon.” Marcus seemed to be altogether too calm about any and all of this, as though he were simply reciting facts, and not repeating a grave death sentence that had cruelly been laid upon him several times in the last 24 hours, and none of which he was convinced was the truth.
“Have I? I’m not so sure, to be honest. The last day or so has been a little confusing.” He said after a pause.
“Brian, I won’t lie to you about this. I’ve seen it. You’re dying, and we have to take action about what to do with your life.”
“Such as?”
“Start with the simple things. She’s not going to take it well, you know.” Marcus was still smiling after having been named, and Brian was starting to find it disturbing.
“What are you talking about?” Brian demanded, Marcus was being too tight with information, an attitude which he found to be massively irritating. But Marcus answered by gesturing over his shoulder. Brian looked and saw Jane walking barefoot in the grass, towards the far end of the plateau.
“Jane!” Brian called out, but she didn’t seem to hear him. He called again, but still she didn’t turn. He started to walk towards her, but Marcus caught his arm.
“She has ambitions, Brian. She won’t stand by you.” He said calmly.
“Screw you” he replied, shrugging his arm free and running after Jane. Marcus called after him, but his voice still sounded calm and collected, even though he must have been shouting to be heard so clearly
“You can’t rely on her, Brian!” Then his voice fell to a whisper in his ear “Will you spend what little time you have left chasing shadows? Jane can’t save you now.” Then as he approached Jane, he heard almost inaudibly in his ear “We’ll finish this conversation some other time.” And with that he reached Jane, who disappeared before him without a trace. Jane was followed by the ground beneath his feet, which crumbled away like a landslide and sent him hurtling down the hill accompanied by a series of large rocks. The rocks smashed against his body, breaking his arms and legs, opening his flesh and grinding him like seeds in a pestle and mortar dish. Blood poured from his body as he hit the bottom, agony racking his body, and his breath coming in ragged gasps. He distantly heard the ominous pounding of a huge rock some way further back up the hill making its way down, then everything went black.
As he drew nearer to the figure, Brian seemed to think that he recognised him. He seemed of average height, with jet black hair cut short on the sides and left to grow to about 2 inches on top, all gelled up to look like a terrible, if fashionable mess. His pale skin indicated an office worker, which could be anyone, since Brian himself worked in one. But as he drew a few strides closer still, the figure turned to face him.
Brian stopped, not able to comprehend the face that stared back at him. It was his own. This wasn’t right. How could this be? Another dream? He must be having another dream. Wonderful, he thought. He started to imagine all the inventive ways in which a mirror image of himself could now try to kill him in some horrific and bloody manner.
“This is just a dream!” He shouted aloud to himself, and turned to stare at his mirror image, as if by having spoken, it should now disappear. Instead, the figure reacted by standing up, and striding over to meet Brian face to face. It stopped, only 2 metres or so away from Brian before speaking.
“Not quite, Brian” For a mirror image, it’s voice was nothing like Brians. It was deeper, much deeper, and the image spoke each word slowly and carefully, as though every slight vocal resonance held an ancient power. “but close enough. Certainly, we’re inside your head at the moment. Nothing more.”
“If we’re inside my head, this is a dream. There is no discussion.” Brian was in no mood for this. He steadied himself, expecting the image to lunge at him at the first opportunity.
“I’m not here to argue with you Brian. We have decisions to make, and little time for pointless aesthetic debates.” The voice of the image still came out slowly and meticulously, but seemed to hold an air of age and wisdom akin to fairytale wizards and wise men.
“Wait a minute. Who are you? And why are we meeting up for non-aesthetic debates inside my head?”
“A good question, certainly one that will eventually require an answer. But not now. There is too much that must be decided for you, and little enough time for that. The fewer distractions you have now, the better.” No name, then, Brian thought. Just typical. But the image seemed to be pressing the idea of decision making on his behalf, and if someone was to help making decisions for him, he damn well wanted to know who it was.
“Your name. I’m not discussing anything with anybody until I know who you are.” The words came out half-shouted, and harsher than Brian had intended, but the image didn’t seem to take offence at it.
“What would you have me tell you? I have never had a name, as such, and to be honest don’t really care for one. Just make an assumption for now. I could be your deep consciousness, I could be a fraction of a broken mind driven to schizophrenia by tragic circumstances, or I could be a psychic medium, aware of your plight and contacting you through a crystal ball in my well lit and smoky study room. What I am and who I am isn’t a matter of any great concern. The fact that you have only a few months to live is.” Brian wasn’t happy at this, but it seemed the image wasn’t about to give up anything, but then he connected to the comment that the image had never had a name, and decided to give him one, if only for something to refer to him with.
“Marcus. I’ll call you Marcus. You may not want to give me your identity, so I’m going to give you one. Is that alright with you, Marcus? His mirror seemed to read something in this that Brian did not, and seemed to be recollecting something which brought a smile to his face and a glint to his eye as he replied.
“Marcus. Yes, yes I like that. Well done Brian. I think we’ll get along just fine.”
“So what am I doing here, on this hill inside my brain?” Nice as it was to put a name to a face, Brian was still all too aware of the fact that he was dreaming, and his dreams of late had not been among the most pleasant he’d ever experienced.
“I should think that would be obvious, Brian.”
“Well, it’s not obvious.” He retorted quickly.
“Brian, you have contracted a lethal form of cancer, and you’re going to die very soon.” Marcus seemed to be altogether too calm about any and all of this, as though he were simply reciting facts, and not repeating a grave death sentence that had cruelly been laid upon him several times in the last 24 hours, and none of which he was convinced was the truth.
“Have I? I’m not so sure, to be honest. The last day or so has been a little confusing.” He said after a pause.
“Brian, I won’t lie to you about this. I’ve seen it. You’re dying, and we have to take action about what to do with your life.”
“Such as?”
“Start with the simple things. She’s not going to take it well, you know.” Marcus was still smiling after having been named, and Brian was starting to find it disturbing.
“What are you talking about?” Brian demanded, Marcus was being too tight with information, an attitude which he found to be massively irritating. But Marcus answered by gesturing over his shoulder. Brian looked and saw Jane walking barefoot in the grass, towards the far end of the plateau.
“Jane!” Brian called out, but she didn’t seem to hear him. He called again, but still she didn’t turn. He started to walk towards her, but Marcus caught his arm.
“She has ambitions, Brian. She won’t stand by you.” He said calmly.
“Screw you” he replied, shrugging his arm free and running after Jane. Marcus called after him, but his voice still sounded calm and collected, even though he must have been shouting to be heard so clearly
“You can’t rely on her, Brian!” Then his voice fell to a whisper in his ear “Will you spend what little time you have left chasing shadows? Jane can’t save you now.” Then as he approached Jane, he heard almost inaudibly in his ear “We’ll finish this conversation some other time.” And with that he reached Jane, who disappeared before him without a trace. Jane was followed by the ground beneath his feet, which crumbled away like a landslide and sent him hurtling down the hill accompanied by a series of large rocks. The rocks smashed against his body, breaking his arms and legs, opening his flesh and grinding him like seeds in a pestle and mortar dish. Blood poured from his body as he hit the bottom, agony racking his body, and his breath coming in ragged gasps. He distantly heard the ominous pounding of a huge rock some way further back up the hill making its way down, then everything went black.
I must say I like this story. I find dream sequences and the point where reality and illusion fuse to be interesting.
May I say that you will be waiting for uite some time....?
*waits*
wrong bloody account.
It seemed he had been walking an for an age, as he finally crested the top of the hill. He wasn’t quite sure why he was walking up it, it was as if something had been compelling him to do so. Bu now he reached the top to find a broad and grassy plateau. He spent a minute or two looking around, to see if there was anything of note on the plateau. Then he noticed a figure sitting on a largish rock about 100 metres over ahead and to his right. Brian decided to walk over to him, to see if it was he who had compelled him to walk up the hill.
As he drew nearer to the figure, Brian seemed to think that he recognised him. He seemed of average height, with jet black hair cut short on the sides and left to grow to about 2 inches on top, all gelled up to look like a terrible, if fashionable mess. His pale skin indicated an office worker, which could be anyone, since Brian himself worked in one. But as he drew a few strides closer still, the figure turned to face him.
Brian stopped, not able to comprehend the face that stared back at him. It was his own. This wasn’t right. How could this be? Another dream? He must be having another dream. Wonderful, he thought. He started to imagine all the inventive ways in which a mirror image of himself could now try to kill him in some horrific and bloody manner.
“This is just a dream!” He shouted aloud to himself, and turned to stare at his mirror image, as if by having spoken, it should now disappear. Instead, the figure reacted by standing up, and striding over to meet Brian face to face. It stopped, only 2 metres or so away from Brian before speaking.
“Not quite, Brian” For a mirror image, it’s voice was nothing like Brians. It was deeper, much deeper, and the image spoke each word slowly and carefully, as though every slight vocal resonance held an ancient power. “but close enough. Certainly, we’re inside your head at the moment. Nothing more.”
“If we’re inside my head, this is a dream. There is no discussion.” Brian was in no mood for this. He steadied himself, expecting the image to lunge at him at the first opportunity.
“I’m not here to argue with you Brian. We have decisions to make, and little time for pointless aesthetic debates.” The voice of the image still came out slowly and meticulously, but seemed to hold an air of age and wisdom akin to fairytale wizards and wise men.
“Wait a minute. Who are you? And why are we meeting up for non-aesthetic debates inside my head?”
“A good question, certainly one that will eventually require an answer. But not now. There is too much that must be decided for you, and little enough time for that. The fewer distractions you have now, the better.” No name, then, Brian thought. Just typical. But the image seemed to be pressing the idea of decision making on his behalf, and if someone was to help making decisions for him, he damn well wanted to know who it was.
“Your name. I’m not discussing anything with anybody until I know who you are.” The words came out half-shouted, and harsher than Brian had intended, but the image didn’t seem to take offence at it.
“What would you have me tell you? I have never had a name, as such, and to be honest don’t really care for one. Just make an assumption for now. I could be your deep consciousness, I could be a fraction of a broken mind driven to schizophrenia by tragic circumstances, or I could be a psychic medium, aware of your plight and contacting you through a crystal ball in my well lit and smoky study room. What I am and who I am isn’t a matter of any great concern. The fact that you have only a few months to live is.” Brian wasn’t happy at this, but it seemed the image wasn’t about to give up anything, but then he connected to the comment that the image had never had a name, and decided to give him one, if only for something to refer to him with.
“Marcus. I’ll call you Marcus. You may not want to give me your identity, so I’m going to give you one. Is that alright with you, Marcus? His mirror seemed to read something in this that Brian did not, and seemed to be recollecting something which brought a smile to his face and a glint to his eye as he replied.
“Marcus. Yes, yes I like that. Well done Brian. I think we’ll get along just fine.”
“So what am I doing here, on this hill inside my brain?” Nice as it was to put a name to a face, Brian was still all too aware of the fact that he was dreaming, and his dreams of late had not been among the most pleasant he’d ever experienced.
“I should think that would be obvious, Brian.”
“Well, it’s not obvious.” He retorted quickly.
“Brian, you have contracted a lethal form of cancer, and you’re going to die very soon.” Marcus seemed to be altogether too calm about any and all of this, as though he were simply reciting facts, and not repeating a grave death sentence that had cruelly been laid upon him several times in the last 24 hours, and none of which he was convinced was the truth.
“Have I? I’m not so sure, to be honest. The last day or so has been a little confusing.” He said after a pause.
“Brian, I won’t lie to you about this. I’ve seen it. You’re dying, and we have to take action about what to do with your life.”
“Such as?”
“Start with the simple things. She’s not going to take it well, you know.” Marcus was still smiling after having been named, and Brian was starting to find it disturbing.
“What are you talking about?” Brian demanded, Marcus was being too tight with information, an attitude which he found to be massively irritating. But Marcus answered by gesturing over his shoulder. Brian looked and saw Jane walking barefoot in the grass, towards the far end of the plateau.
“Jane!” Brian called out, but she didn’t seem to hear him. He called again, but still she didn’t turn. He started to walk towards her, but Marcus caught his arm.
“She has ambitions, Brian. She won’t stand by you.” He said calmly.
“Screw you” he replied, shrugging his arm free and running after Jane. Marcus called after him, but his voice still sounded calm and collected, even though he must have been shouting to be heard so clearly
“You can’t rely on her, Brian!” Then his voice fell to a whisper in his ear “Will you spend what little time you have left chasing shadows? Jane can’t save you now.” Then as he approached Jane, he heard almost inaudibly in his ear “We’ll finish this conversation some other time.” And with that he reached Jane, who disappeared before him without a trace. Jane was followed by the ground beneath his feet, which crumbled away like a landslide and sent him hurtling down the hill accompanied by a series of large rocks. The rocks smashed against his body, breaking his arms and legs, opening his flesh and grinding him like seeds in a pestle and mortar dish. Blood poured from his body as he hit the bottom, agony racking his body, and his breath coming in ragged gasps. He distantly heard the ominous pounding of a huge rock some way further back up the hill making its way down, then everything went black.
As he drew nearer to the figure, Brian seemed to think that he recognised him. He seemed of average height, with jet black hair cut short on the sides and left to grow to about 2 inches on top, all gelled up to look like a terrible, if fashionable mess. His pale skin indicated an office worker, which could be anyone, since Brian himself worked in one. But as he drew a few strides closer still, the figure turned to face him.
Brian stopped, not able to comprehend the face that stared back at him. It was his own. This wasn’t right. How could this be? Another dream? He must be having another dream. Wonderful, he thought. He started to imagine all the inventive ways in which a mirror image of himself could now try to kill him in some horrific and bloody manner.
“This is just a dream!” He shouted aloud to himself, and turned to stare at his mirror image, as if by having spoken, it should now disappear. Instead, the figure reacted by standing up, and striding over to meet Brian face to face. It stopped, only 2 metres or so away from Brian before speaking.
“Not quite, Brian” For a mirror image, it’s voice was nothing like Brians. It was deeper, much deeper, and the image spoke each word slowly and carefully, as though every slight vocal resonance held an ancient power. “but close enough. Certainly, we’re inside your head at the moment. Nothing more.”
“If we’re inside my head, this is a dream. There is no discussion.” Brian was in no mood for this. He steadied himself, expecting the image to lunge at him at the first opportunity.
“I’m not here to argue with you Brian. We have decisions to make, and little time for pointless aesthetic debates.” The voice of the image still came out slowly and meticulously, but seemed to hold an air of age and wisdom akin to fairytale wizards and wise men.
“Wait a minute. Who are you? And why are we meeting up for non-aesthetic debates inside my head?”
“A good question, certainly one that will eventually require an answer. But not now. There is too much that must be decided for you, and little enough time for that. The fewer distractions you have now, the better.” No name, then, Brian thought. Just typical. But the image seemed to be pressing the idea of decision making on his behalf, and if someone was to help making decisions for him, he damn well wanted to know who it was.
“Your name. I’m not discussing anything with anybody until I know who you are.” The words came out half-shouted, and harsher than Brian had intended, but the image didn’t seem to take offence at it.
“What would you have me tell you? I have never had a name, as such, and to be honest don’t really care for one. Just make an assumption for now. I could be your deep consciousness, I could be a fraction of a broken mind driven to schizophrenia by tragic circumstances, or I could be a psychic medium, aware of your plight and contacting you through a crystal ball in my well lit and smoky study room. What I am and who I am isn’t a matter of any great concern. The fact that you have only a few months to live is.” Brian wasn’t happy at this, but it seemed the image wasn’t about to give up anything, but then he connected to the comment that the image had never had a name, and decided to give him one, if only for something to refer to him with.
“Marcus. I’ll call you Marcus. You may not want to give me your identity, so I’m going to give you one. Is that alright with you, Marcus? His mirror seemed to read something in this that Brian did not, and seemed to be recollecting something which brought a smile to his face and a glint to his eye as he replied.
“Marcus. Yes, yes I like that. Well done Brian. I think we’ll get along just fine.”
“So what am I doing here, on this hill inside my brain?” Nice as it was to put a name to a face, Brian was still all too aware of the fact that he was dreaming, and his dreams of late had not been among the most pleasant he’d ever experienced.
“I should think that would be obvious, Brian.”
“Well, it’s not obvious.” He retorted quickly.
“Brian, you have contracted a lethal form of cancer, and you’re going to die very soon.” Marcus seemed to be altogether too calm about any and all of this, as though he were simply reciting facts, and not repeating a grave death sentence that had cruelly been laid upon him several times in the last 24 hours, and none of which he was convinced was the truth.
“Have I? I’m not so sure, to be honest. The last day or so has been a little confusing.” He said after a pause.
“Brian, I won’t lie to you about this. I’ve seen it. You’re dying, and we have to take action about what to do with your life.”
“Such as?”
“Start with the simple things. She’s not going to take it well, you know.” Marcus was still smiling after having been named, and Brian was starting to find it disturbing.
“What are you talking about?” Brian demanded, Marcus was being too tight with information, an attitude which he found to be massively irritating. But Marcus answered by gesturing over his shoulder. Brian looked and saw Jane walking barefoot in the grass, towards the far end of the plateau.
“Jane!” Brian called out, but she didn’t seem to hear him. He called again, but still she didn’t turn. He started to walk towards her, but Marcus caught his arm.
“She has ambitions, Brian. She won’t stand by you.” He said calmly.
“Screw you” he replied, shrugging his arm free and running after Jane. Marcus called after him, but his voice still sounded calm and collected, even though he must have been shouting to be heard so clearly
“You can’t rely on her, Brian!” Then his voice fell to a whisper in his ear “Will you spend what little time you have left chasing shadows? Jane can’t save you now.” Then as he approached Jane, he heard almost inaudibly in his ear “We’ll finish this conversation some other time.” And with that he reached Jane, who disappeared before him without a trace. Jane was followed by the ground beneath his feet, which crumbled away like a landslide and sent him hurtling down the hill accompanied by a series of large rocks. The rocks smashed against his body, breaking his arms and legs, opening his flesh and grinding him like seeds in a pestle and mortar dish. Blood poured from his body as he hit the bottom, agony racking his body, and his breath coming in ragged gasps. He distantly heard the ominous pounding of a huge rock some way further back up the hill making its way down, then everything went black.