Chaos Is Come Again

II. Chaos Is Come Again – 

When I was a child, I had a
recurring nightmare. It was like
being trapped in a Jackson Pollock
painting. There were no people in
the dream. There was no landscape.
There was nothing to define it
spatially. No direction. No far or
near. No object and no context.
There was only disorder. A feeling
of compression coexisted with a
sense of oceanic vastness. There
may have been sound, a dissonant
sound that added to the horror of
the experience. It was like a mental
cancer, but instead of cells gone wild,
thoughts had multiplied monstrously,
becoming deformed and malevolent.
Surely this was a vision of chaos.