Shi*'s blog/

Lips pressed against mine. Returning from the darkness. Distant voices.

'Is he breathing?'

'I think he is breathing on his own now.'

Consciousness returns.

'Are you ok, Dave? You stopped breathing there. I had to give you mouth to mouth.'

Why am I lying on the floor? ... and jeez, I feel ... weird.

Strange to brush with Le Morte again.

And the bit that really bends my mind ... I can't remember going there.

Somewhere out there, somewhere in here, there is a place where the dreamers go when the dreams need to be found, when they have left and Psyche sits like Narcissus gazing in a dark pool in an old place ... on the edge of silence. Where there are no words.