How Random Babbling Becomes Corporate Policy (t3knomanser) wrote,
How Random Babbling Becomes Corporate Policy

Story Fragment...

I've been reading House of Leaves by Mark Daneilewski. Things have been bouncing in my head as a result, and this fragment is the result:

Did you ever fall asleep and wake up somewhere else?

It was in a movie theater. I don't remember what movie, but it was boring. I was alone, and even though others were suffering through the film with me, they were miles away, and it was a movie theater- other people don't exist. I was alone. I don't remember the movie at all, except this cat. There was a cat in the movie. I remember the cat because the cat is what woke me up.

I was in a hallway. You'd think that'd be scary; falling asleep in a movie theater, waking up in a hallway. I've done lots of drugs, lots of wild parties. It starts to get scary when you fall asleep and wake up in the same room. The cat was sitting on my chest licking my nose. I gave it a gentle push, and it was gone, running down the hallway into the dark.

Because it was very dark. "Into the dark" meant two feet away. I stood up, and decided that I had better get myself to someplace else. You don't just loiter in strange hallways. Especially strange hallways that are featureless. And dark. I sat up, and looked around. See what I mean? Crazy.

I could go fowards or backwards, either way was dark. So really, I could go into the dark. The movie theater was dark. Going back to where I had been would just keep me in the dark.

I went foward.

I sat down later. How later? I don't know. I have one of those cheapo digital watches with a light that doesn't really show anything. There was a one in it someplace, of course, I don't know when I woke up. So it was later. I was still alone. No cat. The hallway hadn't branched, and hadn't even turned.

Unless it turned slowly. Real gradual like. Like maybe, I had only walked one degree of a giant circle. Maybe I was going to keep walking and walking, and never get out, because there wasn't any out.

Which was silly. Worst case, I could go out the way I came in, wherever that was.

I rested.

I walked.

I rested.

I walked.

I got bored. When I get bored, I talk to people. Sure, they're not there, but that's okay. You can still have good conversations with them. "Oedipal. Oedipal, Oedipal, Oedipal," Freud said.

"Yeah, but man, everything's Oedipal with you. Lay off."

"But see, you walk into the cave, into the corridor, into darkness. This is a longing for the feminine. When was the last time you had sex?"

"An hour ago. With your mom. Lay off dude."

Captain Picard was more help. "Are you picking anything up on the tricorder? Anything at all?" He readied his phaser. "It's okay son, we'll get out of here."

"Well of course Captain. We always get out of scrapes like this."

"Even the comlinks are down. There must be some soft of dampening field."

Which was probably true. I wasn't picking up alot myself. Just dark, that wandering endless dark, that secretly circular passageway that was just trying to keep me going on and on.

"You continue wandering this passage way," Freud said, "a symbol for the vagina. You keep walking into the dark."

"But I'm going towards the light."

"Ah, even more vaginal. You seek to be reborn."

"The only rebirth is in me," Jesus said. "I am the light."

Freud huffed obstinately.

Charlie Chaplin was silent.

I got bored again. They went away, wandering down branching corridors I couldn't follow. Gone, into the dark.

So I was alone. But there was the cat. When the others went away, it came back, and it wrapped itself around my legs. And then it was gone. Not running into the darkness, not walking off, or even sauntering with it's tail in the air like a radar antenna. No, this time the darkness came for it. A pool of dark just snatched it out from between my legs. And it was gone.

But I wasn't alone. The pool of dark was still there, between my legs, digesting its meal, and wondering if I was going to move. I moved. I ran! I was afraid. I was afraid because I wasn't alone, and the company I found was dark, and it was hungry; it had taken the cat from the movie and left me alone with it. I wanted Charlie Chaplin back, but he was deaf too; he didn't hear the scream. Captain Picard raised his phaser, but he was gone too, that same pool of darkness catapulting down the hallway. This empty hallway, but not empty enough. These featureless walls closing in on the dark, Jesus had forsaken me, and Freud... Freud would let me be born in my own time; a good therapist doesn't push.

I ran into the dark, away from the dark. There was dark all around, and I didn't know where I was. The walls closed in so much that they started stretching out again. It wasn't a hallway anymore; it was a cavern. I was lost and there was no sign of a wall, no right hand against the surface of the wall to navigate the maze, no thread for Daedaleus to find me, and the wings I had fashioned from shadow were burned to nothing by the light of the sun.

Light! I saw it. Above me, shining down, straight down, through a domed skylight.

And the dark ate that too. It was hungry. I was hungry. I hadn't eaten for... some time. I don't know how long, the light on my watch stopped working completely.

The dark was upon me. The cold swallowed me, but I was hungry. I ate the dark and it ate me, like Oroburous.

And at the tunnel's end, there was light. Like I had been light, before the darkness ate me. Like the cat, from the movie, a projection of light like Charlie Chaplin, like Captain Picard, these unreal shadows of light. And the darkness had eaten the light.

And the light at the end of the tunnel looked delicious. And I was hungry.


The movie ended. The houselights came on. And I was hungry. I could feel the sun outside, the light shining on the trees, brining them to life. And I was hungry.

And all that light looked delicious.

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