You should never answer every knock that comes to your door. Some doors when opened can never be closed again. Evening shade was turning to evening dark. Anne sat melting into her faded velvet couch watching a movie she had already seen many times. A knock came to the door that was insistent but did pound with conviction. She did not get visitors. She melted back out of the couch and without thinking or consideration of consequence. Anne opened the door. The porch light was off but the streets back lit her surprise visitor. He was not a man. He was a couple but to call him twins would be to fit him in a category he refused to fit but there were two heads sharing the same body and staring back at Anne. Each mouth held a mouth like a bleeding gash. One face had two darkened windows where there should be eyes. The head tilted slightly in a constant moment of pondering. The darkness of the windows broken by shadows passing slowly behind those dirty panes of glass. His mouth was sewn shut and the wound stood fresh and infected. The other face stared at her with only a door in his forehead. The old wood shuttered against something aching to get out. For just a moment she saw an eye staring out the keyhole. When he spoke it sounded like creaking floor boards. Anne stood still, too still and stunned to move. One thought played over and over in her mind, “hide.”
But she still stood silent and staring and soon to listen. Like an old house unsettled his words started to shift from his lips, “We are the messenger. We are the message. Dark is coming. Dreams are met. Closer coming, never running but always chasing slowly step by step. We bare an invitation in our words. We speak for the dark king.” Then his open wound that was a mouth spread into a wide smile which quickly fell into a tiny smirk holding a whisper.
“The time of Dream has come again.” The last word shot into her mind like a spell.
Anne woke up into a dream like dear Alice falling down a rabbit’s hole, all she knew was she was falling and rather quickly.
How does it falling feel in space?
Where is up and when is down?
All around her a sky too endless to feel stare in, it only consumed. No air to catch your breath. No light to see your way. Does one really need to breathe in a dream or see in the dark? Lungs are just pillows filled with moans not yet birthed.
All that falling but the landing was soft. Bare feet found the sick of mud underneath. Any minute she knew that white rabbit would run past but in this place he would have such large teeth. She sucked her feet out of the mud with a tug and placed them back down again with a slop.
The moment she realized the silence of this world, someone screamed in her mind. It was her scream.
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