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Slowly the crippled old man drew in his breath. His cane lay across his lap in his usual fashion. His dirty grey beard masked his scared face and his dark eyes wondered the room searching for some unknown object.

Those near him looked up at him, eyes filled with excitement, for they knew he was about to start on one of his wild tales of life. His tales were only ever similar in the fact that at any one time not every one in the room would quite understand what he was on about but at that same moment, at least one person could always relate completely with the situation the man told about, whom ever his audience happened to be. This of course left many a listener up late at night trying to contemplate what the cripple had said earlier in the day.

Without having to say a word, a small crowd began to draw around and a slow hush came over the area. All ears listening for those words that would soon be the topic of conversation for at least the next month.

As usually the crippled man's words started out in a soft, harsh voice and over time raised in intensity.

"Lost, lost in a world of dreams I raised a thought. It didn't last long as some thoughts do, but rather left as fast as it came. It was more of a flash of lightning then anything else, lighting up the room just long enough to see everything in it, but after that all you have is a memory of the contents of the room until once again another flash comes and goes. Once the second has come you will quickly recognize any changes to the room, but can never be sure if something passed by during the what seemed at the time to be perpetual darkness.

As you stare at the darkness in between the thoughts you can begin to make out shapes and figures that you can only guess at what they are. For all you know you could be staring into the empty waists of space, falling freely through the cosmos on some strange and exotic Carl Sagan misinterpretation of the Universe and the laws that govern it. Trying to escape from these illusions your subconscious mind travels toward the black hole of time and returns you softly to that place where you began. But before you have time to contemplate your latest experiences, you are hurled into the rapids of life, struggling and gasping for money, the oxegen of the business world, looking back you see all the opertunities you passed up without even realizing it, but apon your desk still sits that photo of reason.

Like some deranged Mickey Mouse you stumble back onto the shores of reality hoping only to continue today what you are sure to finish tomorrow. Allowing no room for mistake you pull yourself to consciousness, and again staring into the darkness waiting for another thought to again light up the room.

But unfortunately that flash never comes and you are left there, standing on the edge of sleep. Back against the wall you try to keep your balance, but the weightlessness of being in a world using only the senses of the nose and ear, pull you away from the safety of the wall and thrust you into that cavern of sleep, where the unimaginable dwells and reality cringes in the corner of the room. Yet all the time, even when death stands in front of you swinging his sickle in your direction, your fear being in control of you and not you of it, you are continually safe from it, at least your subconscious likes to think so.

The feet of time twist backward, and you jump awake in the hope to escape from the lingering form of evil herself. Trying to keep the visions away you begin the transformation of the occasional flash of lightning to a steady beat, and the lyrics of thought to that of an old favorite song, but try as you might, in between the words you begin to see those images of your sleep and the sound that they made.

As you look out, all items in the room look to be farther away than they actually are and once again that strange feeling overwelmes you. The feeling of being detached, the feeling of not belonging. But as you roll over to try to rid your self of this eary sensation you find your self again against the wall of consciousness.

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