Applied Cyto Chaotics ~ to Walk in Her Dreams

He writes something on the door
It says
“The problem with Applied Cyto Chaotics
Is you never really know
how the billiards will fall.”
She passes him without speaking
Without even noticing
He follows at a distance
Across a planet of slithering things
Under a writhing sky gone mad

They come to some kind of vaulted structure
right out of a gothic nightmare
She enters and disappears inside the structure

At first he can’t find the door
Even though she left it standing open
But at length he finds it

Utter silence inside contrasts with the bedlam outside
He can still hear the muffled thunder from the outside
And perhaps a sizzling sound somewhere inside the house
He goes deeper into the house

She passes through an ornate Victorian antechamber
illuminated by flickering points of light embedded in the walls
Beyond an inner doorway she finds an egg shaped chamber
The walls of the chamber are some kind of smooth
glittering translucent stone twisting up into a ceiling that is a vast bluish lens

Suddenly the chamber screams with sizzling energies
As lightning cascades down through the lens

He is sprawled on the floor
trying to crawl toward her out of the chamber
The gates of Heaven open and a relentless salvo of lightning bolts sizzle him
until he is curled in a fetal position on the floor

“Oh God!” she screams
She runs to him and rolls him face up
The lightning reenters the chamber grabbing him the way a snake grabs a mouse
She jumps away
He thrashes in the current of the fire storm like some kind of galvanized doll
Random bolts peel off and strike at anything

A part of the far wall vaporizes in a sudden lull
She can see the lunar landscape outside the structure

The lightning returns and chews on him again
Then stops

She wants to go to him but fears the fire
“Why is this happening?”

He weeps
He is bleeding from the mouth and around the eyes
“Honestly, I don’t know,” he whispers
Braving another bolt she slides close to him and touches his hair
Listens to his ragged breathing

The lightning returns with a vengeance
Licking the floor around him

She huddles in the door

In the heart of the firestorm there dance inhuman creatures of energy and light
She can’t see what they are doing
She is going blind and deaf in the maelstrom

The door is ripped from its hinges and the walls crumble
Falling into the sky. Only the door frame remains

And the thunder
The thunder pounds her . . .

He stands outside the dream
Wishes that he still smoked
He will try again . . .
when he is rested

Published by

Chyfrin the Celtic poet

Artist, Poet, Electrical/Biomedical Engineer, Actor, Playwright, Set construction, Educator, Lover of womankind and single malt scotch

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