A set of three images that have been a direct result not of a working imagination or clever skill, but of a peculiar sleep disorder that I have been afflicted with during my childhood - a disorder, where a part of my brain would continue conjuring up a ghastly, alien image despite me waking up and walking all over house in a futile attemp to flush it out of my head. Eventually, each and every such instance could only be halted through me trying to crowd out such cacophony with conscious thoughts and memories, but it would leave a mark in that I recall almost every single image that resulted from it.
These pictures would be accompanied by disruption of impulses from sensors in my skin, producing a sensation of an unpleasant growth and dispersion of entire body. The most damaging sensation, however, was the feeling of timelessness - as if every second of this ordeal was excruciatingly extended - and of utter helplessness, as if all hope and sense of meaning was taken out of my mind, leaving me against something that seemingly existed beyond all causality. Worst of all, with the exception of those that ended this phenomenon, none of those phantasms were built out of fragments of memories and imagination that my regular dreams have been built.
Some, like the fan of light beams above, had eerie motion to them, moving like pieces of a much larger mechanism with no recognizable parts, complete with lights flickering across their surfaces.
The last image in the set had at least two phases of working - with the first phase consisting of a smooth, ideal surface devoured by rough overgrowth, followed by a second stage - an eruption within one of the light beams, growing chaotically into a collossal lump of mass which seemed to be getting more dense as its volume grew in every direction, until it became too big to be described by thoughts and sensations.
