Dreams Of Marionettes

It was 4100. Might as well have been 2016.

You haven't lived life when you haven't come to the realization a bunch of it is a lot of wasted energy. The many years that go by when you live your life, and how ultimately at the end you mean nothing. It is 4100 and things haven't changed much for the last two thousand years.

The thing about living in this world, even if one may find meaning for them self, they may always find someone that will try to take away meaning from their life. Even well meaning family members, despite having your best interest at heart, can sometimes wreck your self-esteem. Yet some people like myself never had much of a self-esteem to begin with.

From day to day after college classes, I would indulge in the porn pill. From day to day, I would be left in a daze. From day to day, I will go back to the same nothing that is my life to this day.

I didn't mean to hurt my imaginary friend, but I suppose it could not be helped. She was a little elf girl who I had started dating when I had first taking the medication as an outlet for my fantasies. It's not like I had some of the darkest of sexual fantasies. I suppose I should have listened to one of my ONLINE friends. Not every girl you met is going to be the love of your life. For one lately the girls have began to develop their own personalities outside of the real world individuals sexual desires. I suppose it was inevitable that if I paddled her she would gone on to find someone else. At this point I don't even care if she believes me that I regret what I did. The best I can do is find someone with as close to the same interests as I do.

But over the last few months after I dropped out of classes, I felt things in my life began to change. People complained about how they might go to school and get this really high degree in something, but then even if you manage to get it it doesn't necessarily mean you will be able to be hired anywhere. Often times many of my friends ended up becoming overqualified. Some had to turn to prostitution in order to make ends meet, selling their dreams in mass consensual porn pill shared night terror.

But for me because I managed to quit college, I was able to find a meager job as a bathroom sweep. Although it's not like it used to be, it became something of an unlucky profession. Many people would refuse to shake my hands. I wondered whether I should do chimneys.

Now hear I am feeling sorry for myself. I rest on the couch staring up at the ceiling, you can find me watch the wallpaper peeling, as I drift off to sleep after taking me porn pill.

In my personal lucid dream, I find myself exploring different versions of the same motel room. I find that each time I went to bed in that dream the following dream would arrange the room a little bit differently. Sometimes I would find myself exploring cities that were impossible like Seattle, California or Los Angeles, Washington. Each time I would go back to sleep across different skyscraper hotels, I can never fulfill the previous days obligations, as the cities would be a little bit different. I explored cities built from impossible shapes.

And there amongst the hallucinations, I found her again. I found her waiting for me by Seattle's Golden Gate, holding at a hand for me to hold. And I felt at once that things would be alright.

But I never got to grab her hand. She jumped off the bridge into the endless ocean. I tried to jump, but found I rolled off of the bed.

Another bruise for another dream.

The dreams of personal desires. I found myself having a sinking feeling, and suddenly my whole life became clear. That I might never find my own meaning.

I met my girlfriend on break from work, just outside the office building. She offered to purchase me a bag of Virginia tobacco, sense I stopped smoking abruptly about a month ago. "Is something wrong with what I said?" she asked.

"No no no, not at all. What you said just reminded me of an experience I had at the bus stop. This one guy offered to purchase us groceries using fenced food stamps." I said, clearing out my throat. "Sorry, no I've love some thank you." I carefully tried to change the subject, but she was persistent.

"What about him? We have a bit before the smoke shop." she said, keeping an eye on her watch. Then gently tugged on my arm.

"It's nothing, let's go. Want some ice cream after word?" .

"But I thought you said you were poor. How can you afford it."

"I'm not that poor."

"So let's talk about it at lunch!"

It had been a few months sense I had not been around people for very much. I was to preoccupied with talking my nightly dose of the porn pill. I wasn't sure how she would take me consuming it, as she might prefer I focus on her. But focusing on personalized dreams of guillotined and pilloried girls is bound to affect your sex drive for other girls, even if you call yourself lesbian. This was on my mind as we had lunch.

"You see, I was standing up trying to be cool about having to stand in the rain. My best friend at the time found it quite profane." I took a long suck on a class A roll your own cigarette. "Because you see, I should be able to ask for a seat instead of just hoping to get one. But it wasn't like that at all. I would have just been as happy standing up. But this guy sat diagonally. My poor friend sat on the ground."

"So what about the fenced food stamps?"

"Well my friend was under the impression he bought stolen stamps from somebody. But the guy would kick me all the time."

"Well you won't have to worry about that from me." She took a bite from Thai Red Curry. "The roll your own isn't fenced."

"I know cause I watched you purchase it from the shop."

So that was how we met. I introduced her to the Satanic Temple, told her about the mission statement of the unchurch. Before you ask, that's not why I've been around for a long time. That's just how my genes are made up. I was able to convert her to our cause, and sometimes she goes to events with us.

We often go to the library together looking for books.

We both like to read Magic Realism.

Your life is never quite the same once you see a bear on the third floor. Even as a six year old, the difference between you and the bear isn't reassured by the fact that it's stuffed. It might be hungry later.

It was 2862 and I revisited my dad's office after his funeral over a hundred year ago, in order to visit some old friends that may have known him. But some have long sense retired. And one in particular I knew he had already died from a heart attack. I popped in a porn pill, which gave my social interactions among old friends a unique flavor. I was busy in dream land chilling out with girls in warping lounge, while the guys who was present in the office were commenting on my erection. In this section of my life, there are no answers except for the ones you can form for yourself.

I exited the office to go visit the third floor, and wondered if there was still the giant bear of which tormented my childhood. Instead the bear there was much shorter than I had remembered, and it had a coat of graying fur. "It's been a while old friend." I said the now much smaller bear. The thing about bears is the more exposure you have to them, the more used to them you get

The bear seemed to come alive, and then hopped on all fours. Then it offered me a ride on his back, of which I took the offer.

There isn't much appeal for bear facts, but there is plenty of appeal for various dance shows I visited with the bear. The bear wore a school girl outfit for the occasion, and to much surprise some guys felt like flirting with the bear. Once the dance show was over, I made sure not to ask any of the girls for a date.

At home I took my porn pill as usual, and dreamed of girls being guillotined and paddled in college. I dreamed of the different cheesy biscuits I got to eat. Me and the bear got some girls for each other, while we split a cheesy biscuit for each other. Then exchanged turns doing an elven girl in the pillory from behind. I have no regrets for my life so far.

There is no reason to unwind.

I called the office, and asked if a stuffed bear went missing. They said no, and commented that the stuffed bear is still there as usual.

I suppose that's the bear facts.

"I'm going to get drunk again." I said, to nobody in particular.

"But you don't do good things to yourself when you're drunk." my friend said. We've been together for only five months, and so far she's been the only one to care what I did to myself while I was drunk.

Sure I attempt suicide every so often, although if anyone asks I'm just trying to get really high. But anyone who has ever tried ammonia knows, the experience is totally unlike being high. Your vision blurs about, you start to feel dizzy, and all of a sudden you have to pee. The mix of pee and vomit fills the room, and suddenly you hang out in the bathroom in the dark waiting for the Grim Reaper to take you by the hand.

But not every night is so lucky.

It's been a few months sense I started taking the porn pill. So far most of the results have been me being able to repress my desires enough to only dream about girls being spanked with a paddle in college. Yet on some nights my dreams take other forms, dreams beyond my wildest fantasies. As if some other nightmare were watching me as I sleep that night.

I constantly feel like I'm being watched.

I wake up in a breathless panic, and wait for somebody to come knock on the door, and come take me away to enjoy smoking, I just like having enough matches to sharpen into toothpicks, and hem prod people with in order to annoy them. Sometimes I poke a little bit to hard, and they go to the emergency room. But those times are gone, I want to be able to to sleep.

If I had a better mother I would weep.

But why weep if nobody weeps for me.

My best friend is not home now, and yet now I realize no matter what I do I'll never be able to succeed at anything.

It was like this back in the Summer of 2016.

The year of the end of my life, I hoped at the time. Instead I wait for her to come home, and once again wait for dinner and the next porn pill.

I'm hoping for the final cure.

I remembered my second suicide attempt only briefly.

It has been many months since I had met him. The Winter of 4200 was an especially cold one. The daffodils and daisies wilted from the lack of sunlight for the next month and a half.

To this day I have dreams that he has come for me. That he comes with a scythe and intends to take me back home again.

I have lived beyond the time of many members, well beyond the normal mortal life. Sometimes I dream of faces from centuries ago that I wish were still here. I wonder how they would feel about the medical technology of today. They had just remastered sub light deep space travel, and sometimes we travel beyond the stars. One of the new leaders goes by the name of Lars. We travel the stars to keep a watch out on religious extremism, although there are no light shows. Real life is much more boring, I spend most of my time writing diary entries.

Sometimes it gets lonely in the dark.

But I can be the light in the darkness.

I dream of space Marionettes. I dance among their kin in funeral tap dances.

In my dream they hang from the wires, admiring the floor from the crystal spires. They have been up there sense forever. The marionettes, though human looking, no longer needed wires to stay above.

I admired the way they were carved so intricately, how they looked almost no different from other women and men. How they dangled about, in their own little town above the Cathedral of the stars. From time to time I would visit the Cathedral on the spaceship. We had a replica of classic churches, because the originals had long sense gone to dust and crumbled from time on the abandoned Earth. Yet these Marionettes were almost exact replicas of the ones before the migration. Their little wooden clogs had ornate carved patterns reminding one of galaxies. I have wanted to hang out with them, to inquire to them as to what it is like to be a marionette.

But soon I would find out.

It was the following evening after I got off of work, cleaning the floors as a Janitor for the space estate. I visited the cathedral, that seemed to come alive at night, or whatever night meant in space. And there I saw the marionettes having dance parties, and making friends. No longer were they held by wires, if they ever were at all. Instead I was greeted by two marionette women, who wanted me to dance with them. They were tap about in their little ornately carved wooden clogs, and we were share the evening's dishes between us as friends.

So I asked them how it is they could animate.

One of them inquired as to what animation meant. Then it occurred to me, these were not marionettes at all, but rather young women and men held captive by time, frozen until they may come alive when the time is right, so that they must interact with the rest of humanity. The women I met, invited me over to the couch. I popped myself a porn pill, and imagined myself elsewhere. And in my delusion I found myself bleeding between the reality of the animated marionettes, and the other points in time engaging in fantasies of my own personal desires until I lost myself.

I joined the marionettes, lost to time.

The time of the marionettes.

I celebrated my own obscurity.

I lost my right eye in a spaceflight accident, was able to get a prosthetic. Even still this new eye isn't as good as it could be. Some of my friends have lost more crucial limbs, and are currently spending a longer amount of time in healing capsule waiting for new limbs to be grown to replace their old parts. The thing about us is, nobody wants to save us. Everybody seems to hate us. We all the nobodies in what remains of the civilization once called Earth. Even you hate us, despite claiming your willing to save everyone. Because for you, someone has to be in danger of death. We've been locked up in the prison for a very long time, longer than you have visited our colony. All we ask is that you leave us be, let us exist in our own micro-verse.

The thing about the people we experiment on, they've grown up without ever seeing sunlight. Some of them, I must see, have never seen sunlight. Listen to how they call your name, and proclaim their right to live with others treating it as if their individual rights were quit profane.

We are the lost men and women.

The children of darkness. Under the roof of the prison ship, we find out solace among the damned. Here we choose which limbs we want to replace for better models. Mortality is not longer the goal. Everyone that we know and love is right here with us. We may never be able to die again. Who knows how long it has been sense we replaced our limbs. We are essentially marionettes locked in time. Our wooden clogs have special galactic insignias based on the region we rule. We are viewed as gods to other planets, and yet to us many of us long for mortality.

We long to be mortal men.

But sometimes things don't work out that way. We put our based foot forward, take over worlds, watch them decay and move onto other planets, bringing everyone we can carry with us to become immortals themselves. That is our ultimate destiny, our final legacy of time.

We are the lost men. The ones god can't kill.

The children of the night.

It has been a few weeks since I indulged in the porn pill. At night begin to dream about my dreams while I would take the porn pill, but my doctor advised that I stay off of it for a bit for my mental health.

My doctor felt that I was beginning to become dependent on it, that I was starting to neglect human relationships. But when you've been alive for one thousand eight hundred years, you start to neglect them for the simple fact that everyone that you grew up with along with everyone else that you have known is dead. While the others may reincarnate into modern youth in future's time, I stay around and wait for a chance to die even though that may never happen. The flying cars in the city on the starship zip at lightning speed, faster than normal human eyes can catch. It's weird to think that I still have to work, even though most people long before my age would have qualified for retirement. But that's how my life seems to go. Obscure concepts like the Satanic Temple and Church Of Satan have faded into a kind of historical note, although I have known friends who have associated themselves with such.

At night when I am at home I go against my doctor's wishes, and continue to imbibe on the porn pill. All my worries, all my withdrawals, they all begin to fade away. At times I am visited by the Grim Reaper, but he merely taunts me and tells me it is not yet my time to go. I suppose that is just as well. While I am an atheist and know there is no hell, I wonder on some level what it would be like to go to hell. I need warm, and the underworld would certainly have plenty of it.

I rest and dream of elven girls in pillories.

In the morning I visit the park, I visit all there is in the city to visit to. I take bus rides simply because I can. I would occasionally go to Thai restaurants and buy enough for the whole week. Anything that would get me out of the house, where I merely sleep and remain quiet as a mouse. I go back home to eat.

Here I enjoy a normal quiet dinner.

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