Eluthia ch 4

The Myth prolonged in the back alleys while people were asleep, seeping through their air conditioning vents, remaining innocuous in a piping cloud of dreams. In fact, the myth had been placed to bed, so to speak, when the messengers felt that its reality too terrifying. Shamans, mediums and prophets used dreamscape as a way of foretelling future events, mystics relied on it for poetic contingency, but there is an untold narration torn from the pages of history and archeology concerning the dream mythos. Somewhere in the dream manifold housed an actual place, a dream place that fueled or mirrored, no one knows which, our everyday lives. Plato could not even trivialize it with his philosophy of ideal forms, Jung could not even dare pigeonhole its mystical power by owning it through an arbitrary Symbol. This place was real as night and day, and it did not answer to logic or here say.

 

As man is given to greed, one particular man, whose real human name had been lost in the pages of history, attempted to house and decorate the dream place himself with his own profanities of power. One day he had used channeling and Native American dream catcher magic when he ocean dived into this place by chance. With the help of mescaline, he channeled far into the depths of the human mind only so far that he reached a brick wall in his assertions. Its power, dominating and seductive, took on the personality of those who beseeched it. He attempted to house its essence, wanting to control the minds of others around him. But Eluthia, as he called it because of its Elusive power, did not agree with his plans.  Eluthia abstracted him from his body, and he became only a dream. Ever since he has succumbed through a series of trials to regain a body, yet still trying to beckon his own influence over the place. His dream demi-god name was Ullkrest.

 

Ullkrest began to engineer his own profane conception of Eluthia, imposing unnatural shapes and a definitive inelastic world of flesh and stone, a perverse opposition to the fluidity and flux of Eluthia. He developed the Anochromada, an asylum of nightmares, as gateway to reach the fleshy world of the dreamers. One of the rooms in the Anochromada was the mall of unusual stores, a collection of mannequins sculpted from the stagnant fears of the sleepers. The mannequins, daunting in their postures, poised with a great tendency for alacrity that would never reach satiation.

 

In the Anochromoda, the sleeper’s asylum, Ullkrest was wiring the dreams to the material world attempting to make reality futile and ambiguous, a world caught on the circus wire, threatening to fall off. ‘Eyes without speaking, mouths without hearing, but the palpitations of the clock somehow performed their movements. The people with clock faces orchestrated magic in this temple, walking down further to the friends of long ago. Shades of earth and aluminum structures follow. Take a closer look and found yourself surrounded by department store mannequins, an imitation of life, entering the mall of unusual stores. The mall of linen. The mall of masks. A mall of mannequins, yet nothing is for sell here. A store that claims I was once their owner.’

 

Too articulate Eluthia in so many words would be tiresome. But we may be able to reach that place through the weight of Minus’s eyelids. Auroras blemished, crackled and transpired in the thin waves of the air, growing smaller into dust particles and expanding, imploding and exploding. Reds envied green, forming one night stand faints of rouge.

 

Light was a catalyst of the ever seeing eye; absorbing and reflecting into mists that sputtered like fireflies.

 

 

 Minus landlocked within his room, only to receive penitent stares from his strangely ornamented wallpaper of possible worlds. While he knew little of the outside world of what only his imagination of it could summit, speculation continued to grow while adorning strange gods of the four walls of his room… deities that justified the meaningless labors of the cities whose doppelganger existence corresponded to the metallic hammering of the Ullkrest. Only someone as sheltered as Minus could begin to acquiesce the possibility of Eluthia, for his mind manufactured only the labors of his own thoughts, only that the labor was not for sell. Minus’s anti-social life had been still enough to notice, yet his energies generated enough friction to illuminate a candle in Plato’s ‘Dark Cave’, shadows which would traumatize the regular onlooker… which would make the substantiality of his three dimensional world of cars, buildings, racy people on cell phones as pliable as if Bugs Bunny were an actual living character. Dreams were more than mere carbon copies of daily life activities, they were the needle on which the balancing act of humanity rested… the Statue of Liberty without her shroud, the emancipation of human desire wielded into mutant copulations of strange gods…

 

All of our motives, actions and hopes had a face waiting on the other side to announce itself like a beacon through its eyes, its watershed tears and comparable laughter, its stoned face gaze bounding our loose-leaf capacity, its stone-brittled mouth agape swallowing the pictures of our past into scrapbook memorabilia, our vanities justified in its cemented hands.

 

 Our soul, a city-state landmass of adorned statues, which we treaded with self-assurance that it would placate itself below our feet, never doubting that we would fall. We thought we had enough inertia to keep us grounded, that the clouds would continue to parade on by, that the grass would continue to caress the soles of our feet, providing the inkling sensation that we were there; our assumptions would soon be cast aside as the Ullkrest would reveal its cast-iron hands swiping clean the monuments and governmental structures of our time, flipping the world we know on its hind-legs, and when you look upside down you will see the true make-up of our constitution, as if you were looking inside a statue you would see the steel bars that hold it together, our histories would unfold, funneling the plastic realities of our industry into make-shift movements, the sentiment of the Greeks will soon be realized.