An excerpt from the story I’m creating:
Jake is a media and publishing executive living in London and has been tortured by flashes of suffering, religious flagellations, medieval debauchery, brutal military battles and death since early adulthood. Intense dreams occur on a regular basis combined with as a sense of dejavu with places, strangers and family. Jake’s business has recently taken him to Prague, Budapest and Berlin as an executive producer of a high profile entertainment show. While he is travelling in Eastern and Central Europe, the visions and dreams intensify and the line between reality and the dreamworld begin to blur out of control.
“The Kensington High Street tube station always reeks of piss no matter what time of year and no matter how many times the transport cleaning crews shut the place down for the dosing and disinfecting. All of the slippery walls and floors seem to absorb whatever bodily fluids the onslaught of humanity has been funneling there for the last few hundred years. As I walked briskly over to the turnstile and held my Oystercard against the metallic lip so the laser could read who I was and how may trips I’ve made and oh by the way would you be interested in a photo card update and a cup of tea. Christ almighty I’m in the business and I get so fucking sick of the constant marketing messages.
Blood. that sickly sweet smell just wafted out of no where as if on some unseen vapor. Being prone to panic attacks I can hear my wife Jude in my ear ‘Have you taken your meds’ This odd smell was also coupled with an intense searing burning pain that radiated from my lower back all the way up my spine. It was as if I exposed the worst sunburn ever imagined to thousands of bee stings and an odd ringing in my eardrums”