After A While, Though, Even The Deepest

Not Only Did I Rediscover Every Experience Of My Life, I Had To Live Each Unfulfilled Desire As Well—as Though They’d Been Fulfilled. I Saw That What Transpires In The Mind Is Just As Real As Any Flesh And Blood Occurrence. What Had Only Been Imagination In Life, Now Became Tangible, Each Fantasy A Full Reality. I Lived Them All—while, At The Same Time, Standing To The Side, A Witness To Their, Often, Intimate Squalor. A Witness Cursed With Total Objectivity.

Failures Plagued Me. Things I Had Omitted Or Ignored, Neglected. What I Should Have Given And Hadn’t. I Felt The Biting Pang Of Every Unfulfillment.

Normalcy Was A Majority Concept, The Standard Of Many And Not The Standard Of Just One Man.

In A World Of Monotonous Horror There Could Be No Salvation In Wild Dreaming. Horror He Had Adjusted To. But Monotony Was The Greater Obstacle, And He Realized It Now, Understood It At Long Last. And Understanding It Seemed To Give Him A Sort Of Quiet Peace, A Sense Of Having Spread All The Cards On His Mental Table, Examined Them, And Settled Conclusively On The Desired Hand.

In A World Of Monotonous Horror There Could Be No Salvation In Wild Dreaming.