Perspective

It was coming in from all directions. One after another, a thud, a boom, a click. Huge blaring, blinding flashlights would turn on. The smell of dew hanging in the air. Empty benches all around, big, bright, white bleachers. The field was huge, twice the size of a football field. Another click and the lights turned off simultaneously. He heard the clinking, before he could form an opinion as to what it was, another click and the lights turned back on. Scarabs, everywhere, covering the grass, not one inch left in sight, he could feel them looking at him. Black beady eyes, thousands of them, crawling all over his body, his skin crawling with them. The lights went out, he closed his eyes. He could see the moon in the darkness, it was a crescent today, craters like cheese in it. She had a sad face today, maybe that was him projecting. For all he knew, she could have looked like an L in a box. His phone buzzed. And again, and again. Vibrating in his pocket like so many crawling insects. His eyes opened, he pulled them shut again. In the darkness beneath his eyelids, he hoped he could escape them. He was frozen in terror. He wanted nothing more to do than to close his eyes and fade away. In the darkness, he saw an eye, a large eye, lashes, and all, looming larger and larger. It came close, and blinked. Everything faded to darkness. Then there was thunder. Angry, lightning, flashing, screaming, yawning.

Eyes flashing in front of his head, one blink, and they would each disappear. The colors were blinding, the sounds were screeching, wavy sounds, everything falling.

He woke up, then he was asleep. Awake. Drifting. Floating into nothingness, his hands were numb, the big toe on his right foot was tingling, his tongue was parched.

He fell asleep. In his dreams he saw darkness, and light, he saw them fighting, he saw that they were wolves, racing faster than anything had a right too, then they were fading into one being. They were racing light. There was nothing. A bang, light and the wolf started, and as they raced, a whole universe came into existence, living beings were born. The wolf had two faces, one morphing into the other, angry, sneering, and the other kind, and pure. One cunning, the other wise.

He woke up. He was dreaming. Life was all a dream, a simulation, a game.

He woke up. He fell asleep, he could see the light in the darkness, a truth he had always wanted to know. A truth that was important. He could not remember what. He reached for it. It slipped out of his grasp, and winked out of existence. 

He fell asleep. The scarabs were crawling into him, through his mouth, he could feel them choking his windpipe, yet he would not suffocate, he knew he would not die. It tickled. Through his stomach, burning on the acid, yet more crawling in, until the acid stopped, his stomach could not produce enough, through his liver. To his intestines. He was full. He wanted to vomit. He felt the bile coming up his throat. He was outside his body. Looking in. feeling the bile in his throat. He exploded. Scarab juice exploding from every pore. Sticky. Sour. smelly.

He woke up. To what?