I stood rooted to the smooth stone pathway by a gathering vortex of thoughts that seemed to originate from outside my own mental environment. The air was filled with flashing, whirling motion now. The momentary visions left a crystal clear impression on my inner eyelids, a gaping, gangrenous horror at the core of each. I cried out and fell to the ground, writhing within the coils of a formless serpent. I was in the iron grip of the most soul-wrenching experience I could have imagined; a veritable mental wedgie.
I strained to filter from this impalpable fury something I could identify, but the visions were too brief for analysis on any but the most visceral level. I cradled my head in my arms and rocked gently, trying to block out the demons that tormented me, chasing them through my tortured mental landscape with a psychic two by four.
Green seethed langorously through a steamy jungle in my mind. The green throbbed with verdancy; it was mottled irregularly with less vibrant tinctures but the sheer greenness of it was overwhelming, encompassing an entire spectrum with but a single hue. Lightly effervescent pastel shaded to chartreuse; riotous grass burst forth and then bobbled its way into a glorious vert, which marched then with a stately cadence into the heavy green of tundral woods at cold, clear dusk.
Where the green was a celebration, a crisp and intensely savory embodiment of things alive, the red that now flowed thickly into view was darkly malignant, like blood baked in a pestilential heat. Death incarnate and incarnadine rolled heavily by, a river of corrosion that followed no path but its own. It was like Christmas in the underworld.
Terrified and deeply appalled but with no means of escape, I abruptly ceased to struggle against the darkness but instead yielded to it, flinging myself into its maleficent embrace.
Stricken, I fell into a swoon that led me not to my knees but into heretofore undetected pathways that formed themselves out of the mist now defining the cocoon of my personal reality.
For hours and eons I wandered an incoherent and implacably chaotic chiaroscuro of primal desperation. I had been engulfed by a cataclysmic pseudopod that altered the very foundation of my soul. Words have scarce capacity to convey this, which affected not the intellect so much as the deepest self. My link with the infinite, nurtured and cherished throughout a lifetime, was rudely and savagely sundered as though by the execrable talon of evil itself. No wonder, then, that I was beginning to find that I was in a bad mood.