‘Only one thing I will tell you today is true’.
My eyes snapped open and saw the creature above me, indiscernible limbs shrouded by smoke, dark eyes detectable only by peering into the exacerbated darkness of the ceiling behind it. No form sat upon my chest, it nonetheless compressed until only a shrill exhalation of unavoidable dullness was possible.
‘Love is an all-encompassing thing,’ it spoke, ‘albeit futile; its brother is grief, a different face of the same coin. We cannot hope to reconcile either.’
I tried to move, to sit up, to gesture towards the creature to bid it to leave, but found my torso indifferent.
‘You are alive. Liveliness exists in imagination, and borders are imaginary constructs. Can you understand the conflict? This is the American dream’.
A sound erupted from the back of my throat, throbbing with the energy of generation, but dissipating as it neared the dark air. In conviction and certainty I could address my assailant with near-silence.
‘I’m not American’.
‘No,’ replied the creature, ‘but you are dreaming’.