what dreams may come
#4
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Laruku had no idea who he was talking to. The other red-eyed man in the night could very well have been himself. This was all in his head anyway, right? But if that was really the case, then better to let him lie when the explosion came from the lake and when the waves and hurtling tsunamis came down to crush them. Better to let himself drown. Strangers in a strange land, exactly familiar, but infinitely foreign. All of the trees in their normal place, but taller or shorter, lighter or darker, different somehow. Wonderland had been a dream after all, so this was the place beyond the looking glass where flowers towered over him and pieces of mushrooms extended his neck so long that any passing airplane could slit his scarred up throat.



I'm not doing anything, he told himself, or the demon in the night, or whoever it was standing there with him. But you should stand back. There was more certainty in his voice than he possessed in his entire body; he was a man full of doubt and fears that he had never outgrown as a child even though he told himself that he had. Growing up to be someone he hated was one of those things, maybe. He couldn't remember or he was in denial, which remained with him no matter how much he honestly thought he accepted things. The moon was turning orange, but he hesitated to turn away from the lake. Embrace the madness and the end.


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