“I think I made you up inside my head.” —Sylvia Plath

Dream:

I’m hearing voices in a triangular pattern. One concept is pinpointed, rationalized, and dematerializes as I’m on to the next one. It appears schizophrenic in nature. I hear the voices reverberating like Gregorian chant. I am simultaneously aware and unaware of the meaning behind each phrase. I visualize a green chess board the size of my bed—the only pieces are pawns. I see the white circular shapes as representing spirits, or souls, or individual people. It’s my job to pair the piece with each person. I am failing.

Its been one month now
The February Sickness
Call it a disease