How to Create the Holocaust

Another night ridden with insomnia, another dream that tells fantastic tales.
It showed me the terror under the roof I lived, with maggots coming through the floorboards on a house that knows no affection, a house nobody wants. A house so consumed by an amoral pest that it had to be shutdown, closed forever, leaving my guardian dog inside, on his own. I cried for him but I still walked away. I heard him bark and snarl. But I just… walked away, waiting for the cars to clear the path on the crossroads so that I could walk away.
Suddenly I find myself directing a play but how much of it is really a play? How much of it is really a play? The group of artists has familiar faces, friends from old age and newcomers, people I barely know. But still… something is very askew, as we go forward creating a play about love, life, death, friendship… things don’t all seem quite right. It seems the more we create the play, the more real it becomes and that scares me to no end. Because I know the end and… let’s just say that evil triumphs.

As lovers have their shadows burned by fake nuclear explosions made with bright lights and as friends depart separated ways, I wake up reborn, bringing an epiphany that I have long known but seldom admitted. There is such a thing as too much good, too much light. Without an equilibrium, we can’t really see what is there. The truth knows no light nor shadows, it only knows time.

—

I remember that I went with the crew to party on occasion,  we went near a crater, akin to a volcano, dancing around it. The girl I liked, a newcomer in my life, was there but she payed no attention to me. And yet, she danced alone, hiding her own body with a veil. She smiles and… I fall in love with her. But I know how it all ends. It ends with a bright light and burned shadows.