Psyche Talks

Outrun the Midnight Hour

It's something I've dreamed about. Something I'm fully conscious of but do not fully fathom. Something that visits each day and night, when solitude and lapses in time seep into my sentience. I hear it, the encroaching footfall of the things I'm fleeing from, where the world yields stray thoughts a shot to catch up. I'd be relieved for a moment and slow down as the presence felt so distant, an existence obscured. Then it'll suddenly be noticed, now much closer, and I'll have to continue moving.

So yesterday night, when I couldn't hear it, assuming I'd run far enough to have it lost, I slept soundly, my head resting on my homely cushions. But comfort can sometimes be deceitful, an ephemeral companion. And so as soon as I let go of my guard, I hear it. Barely audible at first, and then heavy and loud as I patiently wait for fear to get me moving.

I had musings about it, believing I've outrun it. And between blinks, I see it. It was there, both in front and beside me, flashing itself. It wasn't pleasant; I felt its rage, and I was well aware of this, but felt compelled to let it transpire. As it lay beside me in the room of my psyche's residence, I could hear it mumble. I had no idea what it was. I wasn't even sure what I was running away from.

But as it drew nearer, I smelled anguish and despair. Like an embodied essence of melancholy. But I was in the same boat, and all I could do was lie down and wait. I persisted to not look at it, and I'd keep staring at the ceiling, the prosy façade that epitomizes the heavens, although in a pessimistic perspective. Contemplating that if I appeared untroubled, it would go away. But it didn't, and patience waned as time passed.

Fear can compel you to do things you wouldn't normally consider, but I wasn't concerned at the time. Owing to my distress from all the running, I started blooming agitation. I've kept in mind that nobody has a perpetual existence, but whomever can muster the courage to challenge it sure has cemeteries of missed but unremembered recollections.

─. Outrun the Midnight Hour | Psyche Talks