dreamland

*

I was in a small house in the woods with my parents and my aunt and we were happy. Then, slowly, we noticed that we had begun to feel uneasy and we searched out the reason. It dawned on us that the house was rotating, like a very slow merry-go-round. For a while we stood at the windows and watched the world spin by.

We grew more uneasy.

It became apparent that the only thing we could do to save ourselves was to write down everything we could remember on great sheets of brown butcher paper, so we each got on the floor and began to scribble every moment of our lives down on these sheets of paper, the names of every person we'd met, our whole lives in each particular.

As we wrote, the house continued to spin, to unwind.


Branches came in through the windows and saplings sprouted in the floor and grew and soon we were all in separate corners of the house, scribbling alone, as the forest grew thicker in the house and the unwinding continued. Then I looked down at my sheets of paper and saw that one by one, line by line, everything we'd written down was erasing itself, fading into nothing.

At first I thought that we were dying, but then I realized that we were, of course, already dead, and then I understood what was really happening:



the world was forgetting us.





*


Namaste.



***