The things I saw.

Layers in my head. Yellow, tattered paper scribbled with a dull pencil. Scattered over, torn at the edges. Words begin to lift up from the paper and appears in my consciousness. Some click. Some don't. Words. The spindly letters entangled with other letters. Some words I decipher. Some I don't. Many I ignore. A used, gray, dirty eraser floats nearby, scratches the surface. Only the surface. The words remain. The ones I ignore stay. The music in the background begins and I drown it out. The pieces of paper begin to slip away like a dead, brown leaf being rushed by the harsh wind. I sound of the wind gets interrupted by another song. Oh these damned songs. Go away.

I cringe, but see a door. I push open the door, my legs planted firm, my arms pushing with all their might. Planted firm. I enter the room to find creepers running across the walls opposite me. Do I see a window there? A window covered with the dirty green and brown creeper. But I see it. The tiny purple flower growing on the outer edge. I feel the wind gushing in again and notice the tiny flicker of the colour purple.

My way out.

I feel something by my feet. I look down and see the little pieces of paper flowing in from under the door. The wind is pulling them closer. NO! I'm angry. I shut my eyes and yell, No!

I open to see the creeper gone, the window gone, the little speck of the colour purple gone. I look down to see my feet on the soft, wet, green grass. A breath in reveals it has rained. The smell of the fresh Earth after a short spell of rain. How can I forget this feeling?

Oh memories. The music begins again.

I take a few steps ahead and hear the rustling of dry leaves. I turn to look behind me and see the little pieces of paper fluttering like the dried leaves on a dying tree that are ready to fall down to the Earth and grow anew. I begin to run

I run and run and run and feel the soles of my shoes wearing out. Oh, the pain. So intense, I don't realise the music has stopped. My legs are tired, I want to sit down, the soft grass... I look down to see there is no grass anymore.

The floor. I see gray blocks of stone.

Aaaaagh. Stop it. Stop it. Stop it. It's in your head. It's not real. What you saw was not real. What have you heard wasn't played.

No. I saw them. I heard them.

No, you didn't. You remembered them.