The sheen of the sinking sun glazes the building in gold. The dark of shadowed buildings before us is a stark, dark contrast. We walk on towards the setting sun, unaware that it's the end of the day that beckons and moves forward toward us. Time has not stood still, nor did it wait for us. It galloped forward into the future as if we had a deadline to meet with our lives.
Into that future we sauntered. The sun was our timekeeper, marking our places in the great book of life. Somewhere we crossed over that line, and into the shadows cast by what other people had built. And great shadows they were. Much more magnificent and dark than any of us had imagined. So we began our journey into the underworlds. Creative/ fertile underworlds of chaos, and jumbled up mixtures of sun-signs leading the way ever further into the emotive ocean.
Here we encountered the many and varied sea monsters of ancient myths. Some however were not so ancient, having computers for eyes and ears, and some even had computers for brains. The golden glaze was dissipated here, and a reddish-pink glow permeated the landscape. The trees were outlined in a metalic silver halo, and the clouds descended to the ground in giant swathes of purple mist, that while enveloping us totally, chilled us to the bone.
We were continuing down the street, but now it was that other world that seemed to transect wierdly with the street that commanded our inner attention lest we fall into the gutters. They yawned open here like giant mouths that beckoned us inside them. We dared not go there. They seemed to invite incipiently as if compelled by a much more viable force. This force controlled the landscape around us in an ever-changing movement of swirling color and light. Small demon-like creatures emerged then from the magenta colored dust that swirled at our feet. The cobblestones were still glazed over in the ever imminent gold cast that I had noticed earlier.
The demons were very friendly and seemed to want to be caressed like cats. When touched they become fawning followers of our small troupe. There were originally three of us, but now counting our followers there were seven. It was difficult to tell who had been the original three, and who just looked very similar to us. They appeared also to be able to shape shift at will, so that no one really knew which was who.
Into the bowels of the town's sidewalk we marched, barely being able to maintain our wits enough to see where it led. The buildings seemed immaterial at times, with gaping holes through which we were able to walk. The structure of the physical universe seemed to be coming apart at the seams.
At the end of the block, the glaze of gold returned, and the shadows retreated to their originally designated structure. We emerged changed somehow with the perceptions we had of where we had been. Every-one's memory of the experience was different. It was uncanny. There was no one unified experience among us. To this day, we cannot reconcile what dimension came over us, or how we were able to emerge whole from it, together.
Writing by Regina Stemberger