My days are done by rote. I am a willing slave to routine. The need for peace in my head has brought my afternoons into a new pattern that contains my new addiction.
Listening to the "7th Dimension" I stumbled across a kindred spirit.
William Hope Hodgson. The dramatization of his "House on the Borderland"
has elements of my active dream life. I wonder if Hodgson had a head injury as a child?
Strange to find someone from my tribe in an audio story.
The story contains those things that I dream so strongly - the absence of time, the disassociation from the corporeal, the awareness of a presence not me. Gave me the creeps it did!
If Hodgson had not died in the first world war he would still be too olde for me to connect with sans fiction. I would have enjoyed speaking with him. Not many people can put into text that strange twilight world so few admit to occupying.