Dreams in the Kingdom of Chaos

by on October 9, 2015 :: 0 comments

photo by Tyler Malone

There was a man in the kingdom of Chaos. His name was Melodious Music. He was all contrasted by the warring elements of the kingdom, by their uproars, their thundering beats and plays. He was silent, all pervading among the syllables of coarse voices, hence being-less the passers-by believed him to be.

For decades there came no Columbus. And one day, God took pity on him, and sent a poet called Platobanish to get inspired from him and write the best of mellifluous lines that gave smell of wisdom and wit. And so did the poet, with amazing patience and hope, paying no attention to what the kiddish leaders were swearing and yelling at.

The same poet brought Melodious Music composed beautifully in his insightful poetry to my eerie reverie today. And I was so happy listening to his words, but then I just woke up suddenly hearing Chaos laughing at the top of his voice. He was dancing like a crazy shaman beating a drum, humdrum humdrum. He was threatening the poet in my dream!

He was saying: ‘You are a sinful spirit, and you’re not welcome without my consent to sneak in a man’s dream in this kingdom of ours! You’ve stolen our captive Melodious Music, and that’s a crime big enough to send you to hell.’ He chanted his chaotic mantras, lashing all over my body with what he called a yak’s hide-strap. I cried but to no avail. I cried, and he said: ‘I’m gonna cure you of this evil spirit which you’ve so warmly welcomed within you! I’m not beating you, but that perky pesky poet!’

In my desperate effort to free myself from his maddening grip, I threw myself at him, collecting all of my guts, while feeling terribly sorry for the unfortunate poet who was so badly received and sworn at. From my fresh memory I uttered his uplifting words, and again kicked Chaos down to the ground, hitting hitting hitting with a handy stone, I made him bleed to death. Then I yelled so sharp that my throat felt heavy pain, veins got swollen, and I woke up in panic, sweating all over my body on bed. It was pitch dark, but I could see through— the dynamics of the ubiquitous reign of chaos and conflict, my fury stranded in between, and the infinite universe of probabilities.

editors note:

Dreams of beauty, dreams of death. Dream a world not your own, only in your head. The daylight has lasted for so long and for so many centuries, but it will never save us from what takes our minds in the night. – tyler malone

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