Rebirth: Truth Does Not Dig Coal

Time is like a race track that keeps collapsing.It is endless, with occasional bends, and consciousness is only enough to sustain a person to stay on it for a short time.

And now, I can no longer be called a "person".I am like a piece of foam, sticking to the curved section of the runway. While I was sinking and waiting to collapse, I saw someone walking alone in front of me.

But somehow that person noticed me, and the moment he turned his head was the moment when the two of us looked at each other in the gap between time and space.

Behind me are tunnels that are nearly collapsing, and there is no possibility of any more known chaotic darkness.He will not fail to understand what this is, even so, he still walks towards me against time.

For a moment, I felt pain, the pain that would be swallowed, the pain that could not be uttered, the pain with the heart growing on the outside of the body, the unknown pain.

I'm trying to figure out the answer, candles, what are candles.Me, why me.

Then I was woken up.

The painter turned over on the sofa beside me, his left hand dropped to the ground.

It turned out that this time it was my dream.

I looked at the painter's left hand which fell on the floor, the scalded blood on the palm had completely solidified.The painter fell asleep sometimes, and turned over to wake up sometimes.He was inexplicably unwilling to wake up during the day, but he slept quite unsteadily, and the light of the candle flickered.

When he really falls asleep, the index finger candle will be lit by the gradually dominant subconscious mind, and at this time I can approach the painter's dream.It is strange that the candle, which is engraved into the artist's index finger tattoo like a brand, is also an expression of his true subconscious.

The painter dreamed over and over again, and I touched the flickering candle again and again.I am trying to find the ultimate interpretation of candles in the painter's dream.

The first dream was very short.The moment I broke in, I began to fall rapidly. I only felt an overturning sky and strong air flow, and then I was ejected.wake up.

The second dream was also very brief.First I saw the sea, dark blue like broken glass, and then I saw a boat, a paper boat full of glass.A body of mercury stood on the edge of the deck, silhouetted like a woman.She twisted her limbs, trembling uncoordinatedly, and then fell into the sea, her body shattered on the boundless glass of the ocean, making a piercing and horrifying shattering sound.At this time, the dream woke up again.

Even though I am not a painter, I still feel the terrible feeling when I wake up from a dream.The painter stood up from the sofa, sat with his arms crossed for a moment, stared intently, and began to look at the table.

The artist swept away the messy garbage on the table, and found a medicine bottle under several layers of plastic bags.

He poured a few pills from the medicine bottle into his mouth, and swallowed the liquid at hand.Afterwards, the painter turned over exhausted and sank into the sofa again.

Tortured for half a day, no dream is good.

The painter still insisted on falling asleep.

I'm not sure whether the painter is aware of the existence of "others" in the dream.Or, he just wants to dream about someone.

Following his gradually steady breathing, I grasped the bundle of candles.

This time the dream was finally no longer fragmented.

I showed up on a pouring rain night.

The rain poured on me mercilessly, and there were slippery gravel roads and old European buildings everywhere.I stood in front of a lightly closed and heavy door, and the light extended through the crack of the door.

Another door, I don't know what is there, and whether the painter is inside.

Pushing the door open, the bright lights dazzled me for a moment.The world behind this door is very different from the world behind the previous door. There are no skulls and lace wall flowers, and there are no strange things.This is just an unusually bright room, the entire wall is made up of incandescent light bulbs, and there is no dark corner, like an overexposed photo.

It was too bright, and there was no room for it at all, as if dreaming of a blank sheet of paper.

I found the painter in the corner of this palatial room.The painter dressed up like a person who lived centuries ago. He was soaked all over, as if he had just broken into the house from a rainy night. The sackcloth package was soaked in rain, and there were bottles and jars of trivial things in it.The painter has a sickle pinned to his waist, and his clothes are strong and old. At this moment, he is sitting sluggishly in a corner, holding two flints full of water in his hand, like a medieval serf who has experienced many vicissitudes.

He lowered his head and was busy fiddling with the flint in his hand. He was very focused and didn't notice my existence.

As I approached, I saw a short candle in front of the painter.

Candle!This was the first time candles appeared in the dream, and the room must have had a special meaning.I squatted beside the painter, who was trying to light the candle by striking two flints that were still dripping with his hands.

Although I knew that the communication might be meaningless, I still tried to open my mouth, trying to make my words fit the context. "You know it's useless, don't you? It's impossible to light a candle that way."

The painter didn't look up, he was busy striking flint and steel with his hands, but he didn't ignore me, but said to me irrelevantly, "Travelers, it's always you. Travelers in rainy nights, passers-by who don't want to open their eyes. Don't spend the night here, Here is my room."

I leaned over to watch him, and found the painter with his eyes closed.

With his eyes closed, he tried to light a candle that couldn't be lit in a brightly lit room.

As always, the dream was weird and there was no reasonable explanation for it.

After the painter issued this order to chase away guests, he would no longer talk to me.He rubbed the flint and steel repeatedly, doing futile work.I didn't want to waste the opportunity, so I observed the room.Bright, really bright.The light is so saturated that it's almost uncomfortably harsh.Since the painter said that this room was his, it meant that there was no need for him to go out of the room in this pouring rain environment.Then why light candles, in such a bright room, is it superfluous to light candles?This move seemed to be some kind of ritual. I tried to start the analysis with the existing conditions.

With eyes closed, it can be said that the painter played the role of a blind man in this dream. He may not know that there is light in his room, so he thinks that lighting the candle in his hand will be the only light source.In other words, the lamp is not a fire. He is soaked all over and needs a heat source, so he wants to dry the water with fire.In short, after lighting the candles, a ceremony will be completed.Completing the ritual is the key to interpreting this dream.

After observing the room, there is nothing suspicious, it is indeed just a room with excessive light.Walking along the wall, I suddenly noticed something colliding in my trousers pocket. When I took it out, it turned out to be a pack of cigarettes and an old-fashioned lighter.

With a simple wipe, the fire core jumped up from the mouth of the machine immediately.It is available.

The painter went to such lengths to try to light this candle with a wet flint, and I had a lighter in my pocket.

For a moment, I couldn't tell if I walked into the dream or if the dream created me.

I squatted beside the painter, lit the candle in front of the painter with a lighter, and easily completed the ceremony for the painter.There is no wind, and the edge of this candle is almost static, which is exactly the same as the flame of the painter's index finger, and it seems that it should be burning here.

A bright room, a kindling that burns forever but doesn't need to exist.

Tinder?

The concept of these two characters suddenly touched me, and I felt that something was screwed into my consciousness like a screw.Tinder, whose kindling.The cigarette held in his hand by convention, the left index finger with strong phalanges, no lines, no slender ring-shaped French tattoos.Someone asked, Tekapo?What Tekapo.

The painter suddenly opened his eyes.

The dream suddenly changed scenes in my cramped consciousness.

I showed up on a plane with the doors wide open.

With heavy equipment on my back, I looked like a soldier waiting for instructions to jump.Under the tens of thousands of meters, there is only a huge and magical indigo glass ball under him.

This is obviously not a normal place to skydive, but my mind is no longer anxious, and I feel unprecedented peace, as if I belonged in this place.Looking out parallel to the cabin door, what I saw was the night sky and a strip of the Milky Way torn by light.

The painter was sitting next to me, with the same heavy luggage, and also waiting for instructions to skydive.

The painter's face was hidden behind the goggles, so I couldn't see his expression clearly, but I could feel that he was looking at me.

With our hands clasped on our knees, our posture is calm and settled.It seems that what you are about to face is not just parachuting from the universe to the earth with your body, but just flying to outer space to see the Milky Way.

The galaxy belt is like a still photo.

It is rare for a painter's dream to have such a realistic and peaceful scene. I felt a faint touch, as if I had known each other before.At this moment, I am very close to the past, and if I go on, I will think of something.

The painter suddenly opened his mouth and said to me, "The time I went to Tekapo, you said... there was nothing to see except stars."

Tekapo, the artist also has Tekapo in his mind.

I listen carefully.At this time, the cabin was choked by the wind, and the whole plane was on the verge of disintegration. I swayed randomly and helped the iron plate next to me, worried that I would wake up from the dream again, but the artist continued, "The time you went to Tekapo, you said... light The stars, there is nothing to see. You said, when you get cancer one day, or the earth is about to end, you will come to Tekapo to herd sheep on a piece of land. You said, when there is such a day, you will call me and bring a few from childhood. Raise dogs and horses, go hunting, open up wasteland, and live like barbarians in the middle ages who don't know what the Industrial Revolution is. Wait for that day...right?"

The roof of the cabin was suddenly pushed open by a strong airflow, and the stable space-time constructed by the machine was instantly mixed with a lot of fine black debris of the universe.I was almost taken out of the cabin by an involuntary airflow, and the painter next to me grabbed me, and a part of his body had merged into the back, becoming a part of the plane.

The painter's still free hand suddenly became uncontrollable, shaking more than the cabin, and it was almost impossible to hold my hand.

The painter supported his body and tried his best to keep the cabin from being blown away. The goggles collapsed and cracked. He repeated to me, "That time from the Great Barrier Reef to Tekapo, you swear that one day you will call me ...Live like a barbarian in the middle ages who didn't know what the Industrial Revolution was. I didn't speak, and you probably thought I didn't yearn for it....You call me a cold-blooded animal, let me stop fucking in front of your eyes, saying that I don't deserve to come Educate your feelings. But you forgot. The day we talked about savages who didn't know what the Industrial Revolution was."

At the end, the artist grabbed my hand to buy some time, the right eye of his goggle was completely broken, and the plane disintegrated.Countless broken mechanical components floated away.The painter uttered a name, so unbearable that he almost woke up from a dream, "When there is such a day, you swear that you will call me... But I didn't say anything, Xu Hao, you probably thought I was not yearning. So no I."

I was ejected from the dream.

The painter woke up as if he was suffocated. He panted heavily and quickly, rolled over from the sofa and rolled to the ground, his body convulsed subconsciously, and his physical strength was not even enough to support him to sit up immediately.

I also felt very uncomfortable, and my thinking was once confused.I feel something rapidly expanding in the back of my memory, but I can't really see what it is.This short period of time caused me a lot of pain.

Xu Hao.

My consciousness was full, and a number appeared above the locked phone.

28: 37: 22

It turns out that my name is Xu Hao.