Disclaimer: The cover image is "Rise of the Red Star" by Brian Despain. I do not own this awesome piece of surrealist art.

This is a collection of short surrealist pieces. They don't make much sense and are even a little random. But I think this is what reflects me the most. This is because they are my dreams, my nightmares, and other irrational creations of my mind.

I guess my reams illustrate me as a person...I guess...which isn't always a good thing.

I hope you enjoy my irrational subconscious mind :)

The Flood

I stand, in full angst and fury, in the front gate of the prison. The prison is high school. It is a place where I can be alone in a crowd. It is a place where friends become foes and foes become final. Where I strive to understand something untaught, yet am still expected to reproduce the nonexistence. We are molded people, brainwashed into dying for grades, for weight, for friends.

I stand alone, I walk alone. The crowd is left behind me. I hate them. I do not always hate them, but today my innards are boiling so I must spill them somewhere safe. And I am waiting, perhaps for my ride home, perhaps for the apocalypse.

Soon I hear thunder and I glance up. The sky is perfectly grey and veiled. Rain slowly trickles down like blood. It happened so suddenly, but it was beautiful that way. The day darkened as the sun fled.

People panicked. A sense of doom was ominously and obviously haunting them. I was calm; I knew how to survive my own storm.

The rain fell faster and harder, but it was soothing on my skin. The drops accelerated and gushed out like the clouds were wounded. People tried to run, to shield themselves from the water they are made of. They hid like the sun.

But the river of trickling heavenly blood matured into a pond, then a lake, then finally, a sea. It happened so fast. It happened so fast that even I was afraid.

Screaming, splashing, flailing arms and kicking legs. Everyone swimming all of a sudden in a shining sea of heather. Everyone I had once befriended, everyone I had once learned from, everyone I had once wanted to just leave me alone…we were all caught in my storm, my sea.

There was a wooden deck floating. I do not know how it got there, but I guess all oceans need decks and it had been there to master its own definition. People frantically tried to hold onto it. They scurried and tried to pull themselves up with weak, slippery arms.

I reached for it myself, and it flipped.

It flipped in midair and crashed back down on everyone who had been holding on. They drowned immediately.

I held onto the wooden deck by myself and closed my eyes, waiting for the world to change. After a long time, finally the screaming and splashing died away and the air became warm again.

The sun shined again and everything was dry. But everyone was gone.

I was the only survivor of this apocalypse.

And so, to start my own life new, I ventured into the school again and decided hoard anything that would be useful to survive. The classrooms had not been spoiled by the rain. The lockers lining the hallways, however, had no more locks.

I rummaged through the lockers and collected ropes, clothes, and other things. Then as I was about to look in a classroom to collect more things, I saw a girl.

She was a large girl, tall, and a little wide. She introduced herself as another survivor. She was also collecting things from various classrooms. She told me there was another survivor – another girl, and that all the survivors lived in the Performing Arts Stage.

I brought some flashlights with me and followed her to the Performing Arts Stage on the west side of the school. The building that had once been an ordinary theater now stood tall and proud as a majestically ornamented spiraling staircase connected to a drawbridge. At the end of the drawbridge was a small door-shaped opening covered by a velvet purple.

I followed the girl inside and turned my flashlight on. The inside looked like the gnarly roots of an old tree. It was a twisted tunnel with a bumpy ground and walls. And, there were people moving around, fellow survivors, wearing performance clothes and carrying various instruments – violins, clarinets, flutes…

It was a secret cavern.

Strangely, there were spider webs and candles in all of the narrow, winding passages. A large spider web covered a dark region of the system of tunnels. My flashlights ironically were gone now. I took a broken door frame off of a creepy dark room door and lit it on fire with a candle. Then, I burned the spider web with the flame and it dissolved.

I set off into my new dark tunnel holding the flaming door frame. I would be the one to establish this area of the tunnel. I would be the one to make it like my world. I would be the one to lead the survivors of the cavern because it was my storm.

It had been my storm that destroyed all in such little effort. The survivors were my survivors. The dark tunnel was mine. Because it had been my storm.

From this dream, I learned that it is okay to be alone, because loneliness is when you discover your true self, and loneliness is when you are finally free.