And then there will as sure as love be weeping 3

I pick myself up and approach the feast. Upon closer inspection it becomes clear that the food, which had previously seemed so bright and tempting, is in fact composed of wax or has been carved from wood and painted. It is the sculpted replica of a classic feast, but none of it is real.
   As I move away I become aware of a terrific ululation, which could easily be an echo from my own stomach, as I am feeling the strains of hunger.
   I step onto the train of a long glow that emanates from a window ahead. It conveys a sense of promise.
   However, this feeling is foreshortened as I witness phantoms fleeing out through the window with a hellish warbling din and off into the darkness, as though their aim is to evade a danger I am unable to perceive. Behind them comes JD, waving a ghost-like handkerchief to shoo them away.
   Once he has seen them off he leans out to me, and without a hint of irony, intones 'The tang of wild orange'.
   He gaily waves a sistrum in my face then spins around and makes a swift departure, rattling as he goes, though in his wake he leaves a silence that seems burdened with shame.
   Upon the ground lies another note:

   "Clare behind the statue of
   cupid beasts. Crazed babe, as
   cute and simple power devoted
   to each daily shade of style."

But as I pick it up and head down one of the bifurcating passages I perceive a crowd behind me. They must have come from the other passage.
   I look back and see decapitated men, chickens, quails and other flightless birds advancing quite quickly, but in a clueless way, as they jostle and bump against each other, spilling blood before them.
   'Am I destined to become one of them?' I wonder. If this is to be my fate I cannot accept it.
   The pooling blood thickens and starts to swirl, then disappears into the soil, as down a plug-hole. The air fills with a steam of vermilion hues which condenses upon the walls but is quickly absorbed, as though stolen away, leaving the passage dry, as the last of the blood is sucked into the earth and man and bird collapse, thoroughly drained.
   A heavy "clunk!" as of fallen metal, draws me deeper into the tunnel, where I see distant figures in crimson robes, but all too briefly, as they retreat into the shadows. I pick up a medal from the ground and hang it around my neck. It is a reading award, or, to repeat the legend scored into the flat pane at its back, it is a medal awarded for the Consumption of the Written Word.
   With the medal hung I stand proudly and a two dimensional figure stretches from my torso and emerges from my body. A female child, naked but for silhouettes and shadows, whose first act is to grip my arm and from there feel me over, to make sure that I am real.
   I am so absorbed in this process that I do not notice the two men who have approached and now flank me, each swiftly grasping one of my arms, as they carry me along between them, though as we progress I realise it is in fact I who is leading them, and so fast are we now progressing that they start to spin like cartwheels.
   I decide to pull us to a halt and when I do they lift into the air and coalesce into a solid globe.
   Now I am approached, somewhat apprehensively, by the children I had seen earlier but who by now are feeling courageous enough to lay their hands upon me, the stranger in their midst, and, like the two dimensional girl, probe to see whether I may be real, or an apparition.
   As one, they inhale deeply, then each attempts to insert a slither of bamboo under one of my nails, but as they force it in they disappear, as though they were being sucked into my finger.
   I feel surprisingly little pain and am compelled to lift my arms so that my hands are projecting outwards and from the tips of my fingers I shoot arrows of fire, which turn back to children as they penetrate the ground.
   The keys that they now hold, the keys of binding and of choosing, signify that they are at last free.
  One girl kneels to prey. My heart stands still, I tremble. Someone rings a hand bell. Another takes my hand whilst her friend takes a snapshot.
   Blooms rapidly erupt from all sides of the passageway until its hideous walkways are concealed beneath bright and colourful flowers and from the hearts of these gush fountains of blood, milk and "water".
   I feel intoxicated but equally succumb to drowsiness. I stretch my palms before me like a blind man as I dream.
   Three sharp blows serve to shape the darkness into the vision that now forms before me.

The Erotic Dream of Miley Cyrus 2

I had been hit by a clod of earth and thin rivulets of dirty water ran down my chin. I needed to defecate, and when I was done I started to whistle. I was ready.
    The air around me was suffused with a stormy, fairy grove light, cast by blue tulip torches, and I felt compelled to speak, but what I said surprised me:
    'I espouse inevitable friendships. Touch an arm and power gives truth artistry. Intuition cuts across the poetry prayer and knows a new papa, for children linked with joyous sins offend normality.'
   As I made my way towards the flashing EXIT sign I noticed that a copious quantity of blood was now pouring from my mouth, as the neck of a headless bird emerged from between my lips. It rose into the air where it turned and hovered above my head, as though it were studying me.
   My twin, now wearing the severed head of the bird, ran up beside me, agitating wildly. His arms, neck and legs had become the pipes and drones of a living bagpipe and as he ran he wheezed an unholy din. Without warning, he viciously swung a scimitar through my neck and I dropped to the ground, where I lapsed into a deep sleep.
   A golden globe slowly lowered itself from the sky to alight upon the ground between my partitioned head and my torso. At the centre of this Golden Orb was a book. The orb rose into the air, where it floated, as the book opened out to reveal that it was, internally at least, a spelling book. The first word we were able to see was spread across two pages. It was CHILD HOOD, and thus it became obvious that the book was in fact a mirror of my own mind. The page turned and the next pair of pages read SEA SONS, then came COUNT LESS, followed by SET TING.
   My hair started to lift and vibrate excitedly, but this sudden surge served to occlude the word for which I was seeking; I saw instead RAIN DROPS. My electro-charged hair then seemed to reel my head towards my neck, as though it were imitating the mechanism of a tape machine, and the next word revealed was DOG MA, then BE CAUSE.
   My hair was gripped, clenched into a bunch at the top back, and my head was lifted, with my heart hanging in the air beneath it; radiant, but invisible. From its base blossomed and opened a vagina, wide as a zero. Beneath this hung a long golden thread with, at its end, and planted firmly upon the ground, a foot.
   The vagina slowly diffused a light that sheathed the body thus far created and started to flesh it out. It became immensely hairy, and an audience started to gather around, as though they thought of me as some kind of exhibit. I blushed, for I was naked, and raw.
   Now winged, however, I took to the air. I was an eagle knight. I soared through the clouds to some distant ruins. But this was a place where all forms were transient: at once in a state of collapse, or in graves, and likewise whole, or living. One moment I might have been looking at something that was in every way complete, but the next it would lay before me, destroyed. The sun and the moon likewise rapidly alternated, but without the discomfort of flashing light, whilst it was my head that appeared to flash, as though it were a belisha strobe, if such a thing were possible. On, when darkness surrounded. Off, when the day became light, in such a way that the area was never truly dark.
   In the flickering light, projections of texts, quaint drawings and photographed memories. Walls and doors that were draped with skin, which acted as some kind of barrier, but which could be brushed away as easily as cobwebs, or that is at least what I thought, because what was actually happening was that my hand was passing through them, as though I were a ghost.