Strange music played, as if it were the opposition of sound, something draining and black. I moved my limbs, floating, soaring, or perhaps drowning. I was dressed in off white, I could not say what exactly, there seemed to be nothing to it, vapourous, glowing.
...
Bloated faces pass me, merging together into hideous form before parting to reveal more twisted unknown visages. Though I see my aunt in the distance, her flesh teased open by veins, as I stare these veins push outwardly and bloom, thick with blood.
I'm so tired, my mind pulses, I do not know what is wrong.
…
I went then to her dressing table, and opened the middling drawer. I'm so tired.
…
…
…
I do not know if I have woken up.
⚂
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