I don't remember much. It's all a daze - to this moment I hear the ever present frazzle-dazzle of high pitched sound-waves. It's all pulsating and everything's spinning. The clock in the background seems to be picking up pace and doesn't keep the time at all. I hope it doesn't stay that way. It's a constant battle to overcome the TV-like static that keeps popping up but I think it's slowly coming down to an acceptable level. Whoom - whoom - whoom, goes the jet engines, slowly creaking to a halt. Tick-tock goes the clock.

I'm entering the dream phase and all seems well. I hope I remember this in the morning because otherwise it was 30 minutes wasted. 30 valuable minutes in which another brilliant idea could have entered my brain. It's all very difficult you see. My eyes spin as I meet my centre, I don't try to talk to it because it is obvious that it wouldn't answer but I hope it understands. The jet engine is taking off again but I'm filmy on the ground. Holding onto to the last bits of normality and sanity I have left in the huge void that I call a head.

I realize this is hard to comprehend and you have to trust me when I say that it is the same way for me. Everything and everybody is forming into slowly moving objects rather than their former bodies and energy-forms. It's like I'm awake and dreaming. I'm holding onto all I know while acknowledging that it isn't real and needs to be put out of it's misery. My two sides begin a discussion.

"This is very interesting," - the green man shouts at the red man.
*The sound of a jet passing*
"I know, someone has to turn the vacuum cleaner off though," he replied, joking.
"I hope this has no ill effects on the poor lad we call a host."
"I don't really care actually, we're just figments of his strange, sad and fragmented perception of imagination."
"That done and said let's go turn into something more useful like some cake or maybe porn."
"Good idea."

I suddenly open my eyes to find myself back in the blank existence of my being. It makes no sense but I know it to be true. Shouldn't facts enter into it. Shouldn't logic win? I guess not. It all makes less sense than a bag of peanuts and I'm actually happy. I know what I am and I know what I must do.

That said and done the last grain of sand in the world went to the ocean near by and drowned himself. It was a very dull moment and the slightly larger stone grunted and turned its other side, it would have at least if it had one or the power to turn himself.