Trouble

"This is not the food I ordered!"
The sudden revelation was echoing loudly down the corridors of his aching mind.

Scared again. Descending further into the merciless pit. Gasping for air and her eternal nurturing embrace. Always losing track. Undefined intelligence. All-empowering, undeniable. Enter emotional force majeure. I've had enough now. I need to stop this ride. Get off. Get off as I never have before. Jack me up - up to where I am all-seeing, all-knowing, all-being. The Master - not the victim. The cause of events - not the slave of consequence. I know this should be the way, the righteous and natural way of things. The capital rule with no exception. I should know. I made all of this real.

Vix looked lost. The man behind the counter at the Chinese take-away once again tried to get some response from him.
"Your food, Mister. Three pound fifty, please."
No reply. Staring apathetically into the void. Blankness repeating itself like an old vinyl record stuck in the run-out groove, recycling nothingness. The man was waving the plastic bag in front of him, but Vix's gaze stayed fixed beyond the veil of matter.
"Ok. You don't want it? Would you please move to the side, then? There's a queue building up behind you."
Vix quickly handed the man his thoroughly pre-counted coins, grabbed the bag of food and swiftly ran out the door. A big guy in a red tracksuit, carrying a couple of rental DVD’s spawning youthful, naked promise on glossy covers got knocked over in the movement.
The videos relocated to street-level.
Loud swearing taking place.

Evoke the spirits unknown to you, sleeping soul. Lost and blinded. They would be here soon. He could sense their approach. Not a too difficult trail back to the Shelter. Remember the path, stick to the path. Thoughts roaring. Lock focus on task. No disturbances allowed. Funny-looking magpie screaming from a rooftop: "Who's your Master?"

He got inside and slammed the door behind him, locked all three locks, and sat down on the pink inflatable chair.
The usual vein on his forehead had started thumping.
A bit short of breath now (still breathing, though).
He will soon remember the cause of it all, and be the Master of the rhythm again. He who beat the first drum and uttered the initial words.
Soon.

The warm, sweet and salty food inside the foam container spread its warmth and comfort in his lap. Rising fumes of ancient eastern knowledge slowly materializing.
Shelter.
Close shave.
Vix ate the food, laid back on the chair, and floated off.
As he did, the framework of the Pyramid emanated from the depths.
All-empowering. Ever-growing.
Stretching out to encompass his soul.

The Pyramid is shaking at its foundations. Its woven dreamflesh of broken hearts, tears, pain and blood is about to rip into a million pieces of rotting debris. As this happens, the souls of its makers are screaming with agony, as the Master of Darkness is barging in to collect his rightful property: their dreams, their hopes, and the chilly numbness that's left of the soul they once were given. The soul they chose to exchange for their mortal power and short-lived pleasures. I know their fear, I know their loss, for I gave them everything: my unconditional love, and life itself.

A bulldog with shattered limbs of ex-human between its jaws barked and sneered at him.
Animal darkness radiating.
Hurting him.
Hot canine jaws penetrating his dream-flesh.
He woke screaming.
A loud noise came from next door.
Hammering on wall.
"Shut the fuck up, stupid junkie!"

I - love my brother
You - love your sister
We - love eachother
We are love, love, love, love, love, love…