Now, let me account the journey.

Maybe it's a little boring, maybe it seems confusing, but don't mind being a fool's joke.

Well? Who am I?

This is indeed an important question. If you don't even know the name, it's likely to cause trouble in every way.

Physiognomy, body type, gender, personality, interests, emotions, and social relationships are all aspects that can build relationships between people. If all this disappears, when it returns to the original blankness, the disappearance of boundaries will also lose their meaning as each other.

It is the original nomenclature that distinguishes it. Names are artificially demarcated boundaries and units that unify individuals, giving form to vague concepts.

As a person without a name, whatever you do next will inevitably be abrupt, so please call me Nai here.

You ready? This boring journey begins.

…………

Have you ever dreamed?

Dreams are generally thought to be the product of a special activity pattern in the brain, which is derived from the neural activity brought about by the person's daily experience and memory. People continue to interpret dreams from psychology, physiology, etc., trying to unravel the mysteries. But even if you study it, there will always be unknown puzzles when it comes to the brain and thinking. And when it is understood from the realm of the mysterious, the dream has a deeper meaning, and the consciousness will be cast into the unknown realm between half-dreaming and half-waking.

The deeper you go, the more you sink as if you are in an endless abyss. There seemed to be some kind of indescribable being in the abyss that was looking for a peeping gaze, and then drawing that gaze into it.

The realm of dreams is the realm of God.

Now I am walking in this dream, and if I want to describe it, it is like a clear dream, and although I am in a dream, I can recognize that I am dreaming.

No matter how tolerant it may be, it's not a friendly dream.

Filled with the old buildings that surround it, the shadows cast by the tall spires in the sun, every piece of crumbling masonry, every lush weed, that is the city that has long been forgotten in the dusty past. The only people who exist in it are the remnants of the past who should disappear with time, and continue to prove their existence with their own madness.

Those crazy people are like freeing the reins of the ego and releasing the beastly nature in the self. But the chaos of the subconscious under the surface consciousness, who can say that this is not human nature?

In the eyes of others, their behavior is undoubtedly crazy, but whether they are crazy or not may be just an illusion caused by the gap in each other's understanding.

Who isn't crazy, including me, in all the beings here? Immersed in one's own dreams, how can it be considered normal even if it seems logical? So what is the difference between me and them, maybe they are also dreaming like me, and those seemingly crazy actions may be normal for them.

I couldn't help but think about it when I looked at them, and I was sad about it. But this sadness is not sympathy for them, nor is it the idea that we are all crazy.

So at the end of this sorrow, I feel a glimmer of joy for it. Even if we can't communicate with each other, we want to kill each other, but aren't we the same?

We're all dreaming, even though it's not a sweet dream, or a nightmare.

In the continuous killing, the body is like a machine that has been tempered thousands of times, and every movement is precise, stable, and efficient. When you take a step, what kind of scenery you see in your eyes, and your body reacts to your surroundings as a matter of course.

On the contrary, consciousness is like being trapped in a dark sea, the heavy pressure is constantly dragging itself, and there seems to be an unknown voice in the ear like the murmur of an angel, like an intoxicating anesthetic constantly tempting itself to relax its spirit.

This nightmare is a cage of malice, from the corners of buildings, to deserted streets, and even to the wide sky...... The suffocating and maddening power that emanates from this world itself. From the creaking floor, from the empty jars and cans scattered around, from the corners hidden in the shadows...... The invisible gaze envelops itself in all directions, and then tries to penetrate it like a scent.

This is a malice from the world, and if you give up resistance, you will become one of the crazy people around you, forever immersed in this dream that you cannot wake up from.

The endless slaughter with the madmen around him seems to be the meaning of this journey. But I know that the real enemy is not them, but the world itself. On the contrary, it was only when I met them (killed) that I could truly feel myself.

I don't mind communicating with every being I come across (killing). He could be a villager with an axe, a warrior in the armor of a giant axe, a furry monster, or a strange little man the size of a palm.

Most of the time there was no language in the communication, and I didn't mind. When they stab each other with the blades, there is a slight connection between people. So it's no different from getting a response, even knowing that most of it can only end with the death of one party.

I don't have any anger or resentment towards these crazy attackers, even if they kill each other, I feel a little bit of affection. They are not my enemies in this nightmare, they are prisoners in a cage like me.

That's why I love them, because they exist so much that this nightmare is no longer just fear.

Under the weight of heaven and earth all the time, the soul is like a boat drifting in the ocean, and every great wave will drown and shatter it.

But what if you are the enemy of the world?

I didn't hesitate to move forward, my steps were heavy but firm.

The scenery around me was speeding before my eyes, and the act of moving forward did not necessarily lead to the results of moving forward, and this was the case with me. Not to mention that the destination is also in a state of uncertainty.

This is more difficult than the malicious troubles of the world.

However, after the roads are opened up, the trajectories are becoming clearer and clearer.

"Come on, take me where I need to go."

Finally, I stood in front of the being I was looking for.

The huge tonsil-like head hung down and held me with its huge six-fingered palm, as if it was about to crush my body with the slightest force.

"The key man of dreams. What you seek, you will reap. ”

Then the dream twists in the other person's hand, and the valve of memory opens, which is the memory that is built on the basis of the dream.

It's not a trip for the future ahead, it's a trip for the future.