Upside Down World

As I walk down the middle of the dark gray street, I notice that I am the only person on this street for as far as I can see in either direction.  I begin to feel the raindrops hitting my head. At first it is just a few light ones, but then the pace of the rain quickens and the drops seem to weigh more with each one that hits my head.  I take a quick look up at the sky to see if this is going to be one of those quick summer showers or if a huge storm is on the horizon. 

As a look up I am awestruck in bewilderment at is above me.  This thing above me that I had not noticed before and that has me staring upward for more than a moment is all the lifeless buildings that line the street.  The buildings on each side of this narrow street (that seems more like a back alley now) reach so far upward that I cannot see the tops from street level.  This causes the visual effect that the buildings from each side may eventually meet if one could only see far enough.  The grayness overhead is indistinguishable.  Is this gray the sky that is pouring the rain down even harder now or is it the distance view of these drab buildings.  Drab does not seem like a descriptive enough or a word to describe the gray barrenness of these buildings.  Each building is painted a dull gray, which has begun to corrode and chip away.  This exposes another gray color underneath that has faded over what seems to be decades.  This older gray has lost so much color over time that is seems to be colorless; not like white but more like nothingness.  If empty sadness has a color then it would be this inner gray that is exposed by the chipping of the outer gray.  This newer outer gray is more of a dying monotonous gray. This new and old gray seems to have the effect of dulling all the senses, not just the sense of sight.

There are no windows on any floor of the buildings except on the first floor.  I only realize that these are windows because of the contrasting smooth surface in comparison to the rough concrete surface of the rest of the building.  The windows are gray like the rest of the building but with a faint reflection.  I walk over to the closest window to peer inside to see what if anything may be inside these buildings.  I find that these windows are impossible to see through, but soon I realize that I can see a faint reflection of myself.  This somewhat startles me, not because I can see my reflection but because of what my reflection looks like.  It is the hollowness of myself.  I look like a man on his deathbed. Not someone that has all of a sudden taken a turn for the worse and will die at any moment, but someone that has been struggling for life for the past three or four years.  I look like someone who has lost half my bodyweight.  My eyes are hollow, my cheeks are sunken in, my hair is thin, and my skin looks like a deflated balloon.  I can still recognize myself in this reflection, but it only seems to be a shadow of a death version of me.  As I stare at my dying self in this faint reflection, I am quickly brought back to the world around we by a very loud boom of thunder.

I at once realize that the rain is no longer a light summer shower but that this is a storm that is gaining strength constantly.  I look so see the puddles in the street but there aren’t any puddles at all.  Instead the street is flooded and water is pouring out of the sewer drains.  Water is steadily flowing down both sides of the street and it is getting deeper by the minute.  And now the only sound I hear is the pounding rain.  I must have been listening to the rain staring at these monotonously boring buildings for quite some time.  I do not even realize how much time lapsed while I was staring at the faint empty reflection of myself.  It must have been hours as opposed to minutes with how much water is flowing down the gutters on both sides of the street.   I begin to take notice that the rats are coming out of the sewer looking for safety from the rising floodwaters.  This does not bother or scare me as I thought it might because my attention is drawn to another event that is going on around me. 

There is something else coming out of the sewer with the rats.  It seems more like whatever it might be, is chasing the rats out of the sewer as opposed to following the rats out of the sewer.  I cannot make out what it is at first so a crouch down for a closer look.  Flowing down the gutters of the street and even flowing down the street itself at this time with the floodwaters is the decomposing bodies of other living creatures.  I cannot make out what these creatures are.  Maybe rats and mice, maybe snakes, maybe it is something larger and more domesticated like dogs and cats.  I notice the each piece of carcass has a different size, shape, and texture.  Some are mostly fur, some are mostly scales, and some are just a cluster of bones.  I realize that each one has a unique size and they are at different stages of decomposition.  The most peculiar part about these clusters of dead animals is that they are all the same color, gray.  I decide to look around in hopes of finding a different color than the gray that dominates this street.  As I do, I look up just in time to see larger carcasses floating violently down the street.  I run towards one as quickly as I can in the pounding ran to investigate what animal this may have been. 

As I approach this mound of flesh and bones, I have this overwhelming eerie feeling that quickly turns to fear.  Not just a fear that someone feels when they are about to try a new roller coaster ride, but an overwhelming insatiable fear that consumes every dark recess of your body and mind.  I cannot handle this fear and cannot handle this street any longer so I begin to run.  I do not even care which direction it is that I am running: whether it was the way I originally came or the way I was going, I just have to run.  I run and the only sound I hear is the pounding rain. 

As I run through the blinding rain, a thought occurs to me: those last large carcasses were human carcasses.  This thought whether true or not makes me run harder and faster than I thought I could ever run.  I am running with one thought chasing me:  I must get off this street.  I cannot see the end yet I keep running.  My side starts to pierce with pain but this does not slow my speed.  Soon my other side begins to pierce with pain and my legs are cramping.  I am tolerating more pain now that I thought I could ever tolerate.  My whole body begins to scream out in pain to stop but the voice of fear behind me screams even louder so I do not stop.  I finally begin to slow a little as my physical body begins to shut down.  The flesh is winning the war within me.  My spirit says run and my flesh says stop.  I realize at this moment that my spirit is strong but the weakness of my flesh is even greater.  This is when fear begins to tighten its grip around my neck.  What if I am not strong enough to flee this street?  This fear begins to suffocate me.  I must stop I must stop!  At last I can go no further, so I succumb to my fate and stop. 

As soon as I do I realize that I am standing on a busy street corner.  The sun is shinning and people are milling about everywhere.  Some are businessmen with briefcases and others are talking on cell phones.  Some are walking with friends or spouses enjoying each other’s company.  Some are looking upwards. I decide to look up as well to see what is so enchanting up above.  I immediately realize that we are just staring at the beautiful sky that is warmed by the glow of the sun.  This warmth as begin to dry my drenched clothes and the clean air has begun to help slow my exhausted breathing. 

I begin to wonder if this is real or if am I just hallucinating before death on the “gray street.” But people begin to brush up against me and one guy walking alone asks if I need help. I tell him that I am looking for the closest coffee shop and he points me across the street corner.  I now know beyond all doubt that this is real and not a death dream.  As I turn to go into the coffee shop to relax for a little while, I see on the corner the street sign for the gray street.  The street that so gripped me with fear is called Loneliness Way.  But what caught my eye will forever be etched into my memory.  Someone had made a home made sign out of cardboard and a black magic marker that hung just below the street sign for Loneliness Way.  It read:  “Do not stop too long on Loneliness Way, for the way of Loneliness will always turn into the gutters of death.”