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review rooms

Being awake in a dream. As this cycle continue, day after day of the same hue of time. I did not realize for the first few chapters, that I was stuck in lucid worlds. It was always the review of days. As I sat on the couch, or lie on the bed watching the clock ticking on the wall and the review light getting dimmer. It was an experience to die for. It was new, as the edges of that review light always gives out sparkles, then tiny cyclotron lines, and I realize it was time itself magnified, visible to my eyes. And in those lines are electrons tracing back the cracks and permeating whole worlds. And then I'm awake again. This time outside a big building, and I see the floors disappear one by one. Occasionally on summer evenings, when the weather is too dry, my sleeps take me to new experiences. During those lucid's I find others in the review room. And I am sucked into chapters of other lives. I wake up from different moments in time and walk out of the house, or the class or office. As the walls get brighter and the chatter of people around me gets audible I realize it was all reviews of futures. I have not been there before. In some rooms I find cameras and browse through photos of new people. In my consequent dreams I find them in the review room, and in other chapters as myself. Morphing through ages, this review rooms become warmer, familiar. I wake up even less, but I build more worlds in each chapter. In some later days I found open walls or open doors in the review rooms. As I try to peek through them, they shut. The dance of light outside the rooms, I observed for fleeting moments. I know I can't see the creator. Maybe, not now.

edges

Cities flare imaginations. how would you feel in this endless world. all around you people, they dance and sleep. there is no end to this pockets of humanity as they replicate themselves infinite. this is a city never ending. miles and miles of road and rails, it goes on till the end never to come. pendaflour madness, as some describe the nights. but the light stops at the edge of the sky, with the heavens glittered with stars. in some towns they call the Edges, telescopes peer for intelligence. noisy skies filled with drones, of neighborhood walled city clans spying on clones of themselves. these cities, with the occasional meandering rivers exist lawless. there are murders, there are wars. all reported by clandestine radios and visuals. almost every street you go, there is a channel of information. some sort of clockwork entropy machine. there were no flags. there are colors, but at nights you can't decipher their photons. illusions all the same, as the find themselves hidden behind shadows of the light horizons. I see them as i walked the streets and sometimes drove on the forever roads. I see them looking back. their feet visible at the edge of the light rays. their eyes glowing white or blue. and those walled cities. they are magnificent. they have voice and are alive. when you look at them its like peering through massive mechanical clocks with great precision gears. yet these are strange cities, I cant find their ends. what end never found, doesn't fulfill the mind. life gets darker in the Edges. I did realize mornings never dawn there. I am in no hurry to leave. these cities are sometimes like home.

[#] What would you do if you dream like me?
[#] Both of this flash fictions have been published in Glossolalia.