I've had apprehensive thoughts about staring at my own reflection in surfaces that I come across during walks down streets or even my own bathroom mirror. Stupid, I know. Something nags at me every time when I catch a glimpse of my face staring back at me, directly into my own eyes. Do I despise my appearance when I look at myself? I may; or something completely different could be its cause.

Several weeks ago, I went to the bathroom to cool my face from the beads of sweat after a late night disturbance in my sleep. I hadn't noticed much when I flicked the switch in the daze of deep sleep I was suffering. Turned the cold tap on as normal and stared into the sink, splashed my face and quickly threw my face up towards my reflection. In my confusion I couldn't recognize my own face; another in the bathroom, behind me, waiting in the dark before I had entered. My heart skipped, I fought to turn around in a frantic attack, all the while realizing my mistake. I felt rather stupid as I gathered myself while looking back at myself in the mirror.

I'm a strange fellow, granted some may do different things when they're all alone in their homes where they feel the greatest of secrets can be unfolded from a tightly packed cloth.

I leaned in closer towards my mirror, coming into contact with its cold metallic texture on my forehead. I deadlocked my stare into my own pupils, staring past the light hazel retinas. I sharply exhaled, then asked: "What the fuck are you doing?" Nothing was said in reply. Me being as crazy as all hell, I thought.

As I pushed my head against the mirror, I could feel a smooth pressure building across the flat of my forehead, a simple feeling of water silently submerging itself around an object. Before I could grab myself, pull away from this madness, a pair of pale arms wrapped themselves over the back of my head, tugging me in. Oxygen escaped my lungs, replaced with what felt incredibly like water. Tossing about furiously, fighting my away from my attacker, I was dragged further down into a pit of white.

Pulling myself closer to whatever was solid, I came face to face with a bubble in my shape, glistening with reflections of faraway landscapes, clouds gently scraping through a countryside. I punched instinctively in an attempt to loosen grip around my head. Instead of a solid hit, I pounded through putty. Fought I did with all my strength; no matter how much I struggled I couldn't escape our endless, suffocating spiral into canvas of oblivion. Space curved around me and the creature like a fish-lens; orange swirls bled through a floor of water. We were expelled in a crystal clear sphere from an deep orange sky, pitted with stratus knitting its way around black mountains.

My stomach lurched through a lens of stretchy scenery encompassed by an ocean of red sand. I pray that I will wake up just as I was about to hit the ground, taking this whole thing as some sort of twisted dream I would not forget too bloody soon. Sadly, I did hit the ground, shattering the droplet of water I was riding in. The bubble person and I tumbled through motes of red dust as we rolled perilously down a dune. I regained my composer in a sort of stammering run, yet lost my footing; cursing as I did a front flip and smashed my head along the sand as I rolled. Unconsciousness was nearing, my vision blurred as I watched clouds twist high in an alien sky with rivers of ash flowing amongst the clouds as if they were alive little creatures. My trail of thought derailed as I jerked up into a sitting position, staring at the bubble figure fighting with something. Tiny roots were sprouting forth from the sand, snaking up, snapping at the bubbles skin (If It had such a thing). It Flailed its arms away, trying to get up on one knee. No such success, as the blood-red roots tangled around it, covering the body head to toe; a violent growth of blood vessels traversed its shining reflection, penetrating its inner shape. I stared, backed away as it stretched a pair of arms towards me in pleading. All I could do was watch, look deep into orange clouds swirl in a marble. Cracking like a water basin, liquid dribbled out of what could of been its face; splashed onto the sand, where it had immediately vanished. I turned away and ran, I dragged my feet through the tugging sand, not once taking a glace back at what had befallen the bubble creature.

Whenever I had energy, I stuttered to an exhausted run, pulling away further from where I had come from. If this is a dream, I was forever ready to wake up. Something told me it was all too real; the pains in my chest, my heavy demanding breath; my throat was dry, as I swallowed, sandpaper rasped against my wind pipe, and most of all; the heat, the never ending inferno infused with this dead sand.

I dragged myself over one last dune, finally crawling over solid ground. It was moist, with brown prickles protruding from the ground, stabbing at my knees, drawing blood from scraps and pin pricks. I stopped myself going any further as I felt pain stab straight through the heels of my feet. I yanked away, feeling thin needles slide out of the skin. I spat through my clenched teeth, dribbling profusely as pain continued to double. "Get me the fuck out of here!" I screamed to no one in the expanse. Sticks, ranging several meters high in the air, had complicated windmills scratching on geared spokes they were on; driven straight through solid soil that resembled a coal like texture. One such windmill was different, five meters off into the distance, with a raised mount of the soil covered in a gnarled brush of green vines. A human corpse was strung up at its highest point. All moister must had been sucked dry from its flesh ages ago, as a network of holes and webs fluttered about like torn cloth. I maneuvered carefully around the needles as best I could, however stabbing my feet continuously with light mistakes. Its organs were wrapped around what was left of the poor creature; its intestines like blackened rope, coiled around the neck like a macabre scarf, the rest tied up in the gears, causing the windmill to creak and rock.

Underneath was the mound, covered in the bizarre plant life. Some of it had veined off, crawling its way up the sticks, then nestling inside the corpse. A glimpse of black bricks were present, with light brown scratches etched into them. I ripped a clump of the green plant out of the ground as inspected further. In plain English, I read something that looked as if it had been done with bloodied fingers: DON'T END UP LIKE ME, SAVE YOURSELF FROM THIS MADNESS, SAVE YOURSELF, SAVE YOURSELF BUBBLE.

A dickhead who's gone crazy from the heat I thought. Maybe he too had come with a bubble person like myself. Shit out into this world, where there is nothing, not even a single form of life. Small wet splashes sounded off behind me. I span around in a frantic attempt to attack, and I came face to face with myself. Red veins pulsed in transparent form in my shape, a grim light held the reflection of the mound, the corpse and my eyes. Stringy roots had taken the use of hair, a network of muscles in a bag of water. tangling knots swirled together to form red eyes. It gripped me by the back of the head, pushed itself into my forehead. I fell onto my back, with my knees underneath me, the creature boring into my skull, taking something I had chuckled about, things I have feared. It all intensified in a giant melting pot of pain and confusion.