De Profundis-C That Was Not a Dream

Then he threw himself on the bed, the fear nestling deeply into his unraveling brain.

 

That was not a dream, that was even more vivid than it could be in reality, a thousand times more, something inside him screamed… Was he going insane?

 

With the last of his power he threw all thoughts out of his head, and with despair clung to a stupid memory, but the foaming fever in his whirling brain poured itself over his soul: he felt the mad, living lust of her body, his lips were wounded, his body seemed as if broken by the passion of her embrace.

 

It was Agaj – the nightmare Agaj – the vampire Agaj!

 

He got up in fear:

 

It really was her; she could be in two places at the same time. She could divide herself, and now she was here with him.

 

He felt that the fear inside him was now dying away. He wanted to strike a light. His hands shook and trembled. Finally he succeeded. That calmed him for a moment.

 

Then suddenly, once more a wild frenzy of greed and lust for Agaj came over him. And again he wanted to throw himself into the feverish orgy of this incestuous desire. He only needed to extinguish the light, and he could experience it once more.

 

But fear shot up in him. A stream of fear swelled in his brain: that would cost him his life.

 

He folded his hands convulsively and with moans sought for salvation.

 

Finally he greedily seized a book that lay on the nightstand: his own picture was on the first page.

 

He looked fleetingly inside it: his blood curdled in terror. He looked in it again: the lines seemed to come alive, the features grew, became alive, and appeared to want to speak to him…

 

He leafed through a couple of pages and began to read out loud. But his voice sounded threatening in his brain, and he had the feeling, that in the next moment the other would grow, creep out of the book, and stare at him …

 

The entire book came alive, it appeared to move in his hands; he threw it away in terror, but it moved by itself, crawled around on the floor, and with great effort worked itself toward him, then, then it would look at him …

 

He jumped up, rushing out of the bed, threw his entire body over the book, then seized it with his hands, throttled it, and tore it apart; but he felt it powerfully being lifted up, as if lifted by the wind…

 

That was lunacy, that was lunacy! Something screamed inside him. He jumped up, then stared as if absentmindedly at the book: the vision passed, but he was afraid of picking it up.

 

Finally he came to his senses.

 

He sat back down: helplessness surrounded and crippled his heart. He sank back on the bed and stared at the ceiling in silent despair.

 

Then suddenly the memory of the orgy, which he had just experienced, came back.

 

A sick desire began to whip him, his power gave way; he was already beginning to sink back into it. He stood there for a moment and then almost mechanically, without the slightest ability to think or to will, dressed himself as if in a somnambulistic dream and went out onto the street.

 

He looked around: he really was out on the street. He was not quite clear about what had just happened. But he was happy, happy that he was now away, away from that terrible room, where Satan celebrated his Mass.

 

Now he had to believe in Satan, he murmured pensively, yes, in Satan and his refined, horrible sexual Mass…

 

He sat down on the edge of a monument, buried his head in both hands and fell into a feverish half sleep. Then he shrank back in terror: someone was standing right in front of him.

 

He looked up. And in the twilight of the early morning dawn he saw a girl, only saw that she was very pale and had large wide eyes. They looked at each other for a long time.

 

“– I will go with you,” he said and stood up.

 

“Come!” She walked away quickly.

 

“– Don’t go so fast, go slower; I am terribly afraid… But if you will hold my hands, then I will fall asleep immediately… I am not at all like other men, not at all,” he added after a pause.

 

She looked at him in bewilderment.

 

He suddenly noticed, that she didn’t understand what he was saying. She remained standing there.

 

“– You are just a child,” he said in astonishment, “I could pick you up in my hands and carry you. And you walk so softly, that I can scarcely hear your steps…”

 

“– Come, come: it is not far.”

 

“Far? But I can scarcely move.”

 

” – Give me your hand. Like this…”

 

He suddenly felt a new power.

 

“– Will you hold my hands, tightly, very tightly even when I’m sleeping?”

 

“– Yes, – yes…”

 

“ – Is it far?”

 

“ – Soon, soon…”

 

They went silently.

 

“– Here!” she said softly.

 

“– Here?”

 

They went up a stairway.

 

“Now come, come,” she kissed him fleetingly. “We are both so terribly tired, so terribly tired.” she repeated absentmindedly. “I will sleep with you and always hold your hands.”

 

He laid down and took her in his arms like a child. She wrapped her arms around his neck.

 

“– You feel stronger to me,” she said seriously.

 

“– Who are you?” he asked softly.

 

She didn’t answer. He fell asleep immediately

 

 

This entry was posted in Anarchist World, decadence, Joe Bandel, love, occultism, sexuality, Stanislaw Przybyszewski, Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink.

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