I think I heard a footstep. Perhaps a murder just happened.
This whole room is wrapped in a brightly colored pack of birthday napkins.

And the first thing I remember is a three-dimensional closed caption.
That floated throughout the air without a care of it’s ghostly actions.

It spelled out the meaning of everything in one simple sentence.
And I grimaced and furrowed my simian brow in an effort to make a bit of sense of it.

I’m not stupid, just human, a mere variation on the species.
Using the air to keep me awake from the sleep of death; those buried beneath me.

So I poured over the text as it soared and I contorted my neck.
The more it fluttered the less I absorbed it’s message, but I can’t ignore what it says.

Each letter ballooned and popped, before I began to understand.
And saw my reflection in the window resembled me as run-down man.

Only the tufts of white hair that lined my skull were new to me,
And I began to wonder if in the distance, a voice mumbled my eulogy.

But what’s fucking difference between this and my usual habitat?
The movement of tangible objects? The blue, singing, dancing cat?

The hat that halts the aging process, when placed upon my head?
The hat that’s kept me alive for eons, when I’m asleep in bed?

That hat that causes nightmares. The likes of which you’ve never seen.
Dreams that cause your spine to bleed fiery streams of energy.

Each night I block out the process, but I know it’s gory and horrifying.
All I need to know is I don’t fear the trauma more than dying.

Death is the nemesis and few can cheat his game.
So who wouldn't take a trillion night terrors to leave the race?

Again, I’m not stupid, just another fear driven maniac.
Protecting my magical hat with whatever it takes to keep it’s seams intact.

Still, the message contained in the 3-D text eluded me.
I feel as I’ve acted foolishly, though there’s no one in the room, but me.

Or am I mistaken? Were the words a pre-cognitive warning.
It begins to dawn on me slowly. The sky is filled with ominous storming.

My mind is swamped with enormity. The formula loses its potency.
And the more that I think about it, this force is still controlling me.

All at once every synapse in my brain begins to lash out.
And I frantically wonder what occurs each night in my 8 hour black outs.

But as hard as I try to remember, it bends my mind out of focus.
A swarm fills the room and my hat is consumed by the locusts.

All at once the spell is broken.