|FWD: Dream Journal 1|
|Subject||Jack Joyce, Paul Serene|
|Date||September 8, 2016 - Feburary 23, 2013|
|Time||7:05PM - 6:35AM|
|Act||Act 2: Perfect Place to Hide Something|
|Part||Junction 2: Personal/Business|
|Location||Monarch Research Facility|
|Previous||RE: JOYCE IN CUSTODY??|
|Next||Projected Fracture Progression|
TO: PAUL SERENE
FROM: SOFIA AMARAL
DATE: SEP. 8, 2016 – 7:05pm
SUBJECT: FWD: Dream Journal 1
With Jack Joyce in our custody, I thought it relevant to forward you a message you sent me years ago. Do not underestimate the significance he holds in your life. I understand your concern that he is reluctant to accept the inevitability of what is coming. However, when he sees the whole picture he’ll have no choice but to believe. We all had our doubts once. You showed us the light.
Give him time.
TO: SOFIA AMARAL
FROM: PAUL SERENE
DATE: Feb. 24, 2013 – 6:35am
SUBJECT: Dream Journal 1
As promised in our latest session, I am now going to transcribe what I recall from my dreams. I still have doubts that this exercise will help alleviate my symptoms, but I’m willing to explore the idea further if you truly believe in its merit. (For someone who is not a medical doctor, let alone a mental health professional, you seem to take a great interest in my thoughts. Not that I don’t appreciate it.)
Here is my first attempt:
I recall a haunting image of seven red doors. Each door had a wrought iron handle that was dripping liquid metal onto the ground, creating a pool in the middle of the room. I looked down into the aqueous metallic glow at my feet to see my own glimmering reflection, revealing that I had aged half a lifetime. Startled, I looked back up to discover that only one door remained. Jack Joyce stood in front of it.
The heat in the room was overwhelming. Jack was sweating profusely, his skin red and peeling open. He begged me to take him back home, but there was no door leading home. I opened the only door left and entered, discovering that we were back in the same room we had just exited. He refused to come to terms with this and opened the door again. I followed him, over and over as he desperately opened the doors, forever leading us back to where we started. The heat grew and he howled in pain, begging to know why I made the other doors disappear, why there was only one path. He begged me to bring the other doors back. He begged me to take him home.
The iron pool burst into flames. Jack screamed in agony. I grabbed him, told him that we needed to learn to endure the heat, to embrace the flame. I knew it would come to pass eventually, but the only way to survive it was to accept its inevitability. My body began swaying rapidly, dancing to the movement of the flames around me until my bones faded out of existence and I surrendered to the fire until we were one and the same.
I was no longer one being in one place and time. My life force spread evenly across the flames, until I was no longer an individual in one body, but a grander shifting entity. I could feel Jack being consumed within my essence. I felt a power within the heat, a clarity of intent. I forgot about my desire to ever return from the flames, because the body that once desired to return was lost forever. I became the very thing that I entered, and it became me, a cyclical fury chasing itself. Ouroboros.
I woke up in a cold sweat. I quickly wrote down words that poisoned my mind in that moment.
Delmore Schwartz was right. “Time is the fire.”