The Fifth Dimension
It is cloudy. It is late. It is cold and I am naked. Adrift, among star struck constellations, the pounding vibrations of the beating heart thump out across the stellar sphere. A purple sky whirls overhead where strange dark shapes flit and float in the swirling air currents. An incessant clicking travels to my ear drums, it is metronome-esque although it's whereabouts are as yet unknown to me. The black earth squelches beneath my feat, emitting a wafting smell of wet wood and leaves, yet there is no forest within eyesight to speak of; just strange shapes. In such situations, it is difficult not to feel some sense of awe. But I am not afraid.
He had told me that I would touch Orion's sword. What words of prophecy are these? The musings of an itinerant common fraud? I had interrogated him to no avail other than deepening the lusting thirst I had for answers. One does not step lightly onto the Zodiac, I imagined.
The light from the nearest stars dripped in gently rippling waves across my brow. I am no longer naked, I realise. Rather, I find my body replaced by a sparkling void; illuminated and enclosed by these novas which now outline my form; taking up the function of flesh. With two burning stars I look down and see the hunter himself, frozen in stasis. My hand, bejewelled by Galaxies reaches towards the glowing nebula which exults the blade -
And I am no longer amongst the stars. I find myself in a shelter where the floor is littered by broken shards of mirror. The regally purple sky outside has begun to turn into a ferocious tumult of excitement and stormy behaviour. I stand with my back to the shattered window and hold gaze with a creature which I struggle to place in the catalogue of creatures I am accustomed to. It is not unlike a stag in shape and form, except that it has no eyes. It spoke in a familiar voice. It knew what I had done. It knew what I had seen, where I had been and who I had spoken to. It knew me. This is a point where I allow myself to feel afraid.
The creature - a female- described to me a world of colour. Of horizons at dawn and dusk which were so enveloped by glorious colours that it was as if God was at that moment touching the world. She had seen colour in the seas, in the forests, in the towns and in the markets. Colour was everywhere, and everywhere was colourful.
But colour cannot hide everything. In amongst the colour you find shards of drab, dingy depression. A world of deceit. A world of secrets.
This creature knew of secrets. And this creature knew me.
There is no shame in cowardice, correct? Not here, at least. Not here in a world where I touch celestial signs, not here in a world where I stand naked before a stag with no eyes having a conversation about colour. Surely not.