The Open Mouth Contraption

I am watching myself in third perspective. I am feeling myself in first perspective. I am doing both of these things at the same time as I sleep lucidly dreaming.

I am prone on a metal table. My head is secured with something, maybe a strap. I can’t quite make it out. There is a metal contraption holding my mouth open. It has been open for hours, maybe days. My lips are three times their normal size. They are cracked and dry. My throat is screaming for water. I fade out.

Now I am wandering through a market. There are vendors everywhere selling fruits, vegetables and various wares. The market is packed with people. I feel conspicuous and paranoid that I will be recognized. By whom I do not know.

My hair is grossly disheveled. I can sense that I am confused as to my whereabouts. I cannot make out the ethnic or planetary  race of the people manning the market stands. They are shadowy and fading in and out. I don’t know if they are human or if I am in another country on earth. I feel taller than them.

I am unsure what planet I am on. My lips are so dry they are vastly blistered. I focus my view in on my mouth in order to assess the damage. They are horribly cracked, dry and swollen. I am cupping my hand over my mouth to shield them, not from embarrassment, but from being recognized. I feel that the condition of my lips will give away that I have escaped. From what I do not know.

Who have I run from? Who am I hiding from? What am I looking for in this market? Something to moisten my mouth and throat.

I wake up at three a.m. desperate with thirst. I stumble down the stairs and fill up a glass of water that I gulp and re-fill to gulp again. Cake. I am craving sugar. I shove pieces of it into into my mouth to curb the sudden craving. My lips are actually extremely dry. I slather them with Chapstick before falling back into sleep. I awaken into the day feeling the sadness of this world’s indifference, and I escape to the woods with moistener for my lips.

Did I travel? Am I remembering? Or is this just a dream? This life is confusing.

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5 comments

  1. You were exposed and helpless, unable to hide amything but your eyes. The hands are groping but you are frozen with fear. Your mind keeps racing. You are exposed like fruit at a market place, yes you cannot find the voice to form the words of fear through your dry cracked lips. It’s terror, a nightmare!

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