Night

Why is the mundane so terrifying ?

The grumpy, grotesque creatures of the unreal realm , get together for a jamboree every night.
Incidentally they always choose my brain to party in.

While I try my best to ingest the contents of the OG11 in front of me , they ramble on and on about the latest happenings in the grinch's palace. I am sure they mean no harm, that they are completely oblivious to my earnest efforts to keep them at a respectful distance , so that i can keep a straight face and make a career in the real world.
But the din ! It's impossible to concentrate.

While i look out of my window towards the creek yonder, I feel weightless. My mind snaps off it's moorings and floats into the grinch's palace. I am swamped by the swimming staircases and the swinging lamps and surrounded by gregarious and garrulous imps. Some of them notice me but they dont really care , and i feel like i dont exist.
Some tension builds up inside me , they may be naughty and numerous but they are dimunitive , filthy little creatures , and i must assert , for I am the mortal amongst these mere immortals. My ego swells and turns red hot like an iron rod about to burst into a liquid explosion. I yell and i spin , and suddenly I am standing on the dome of the palace with the wind in my hair.
I have turned into Howard Roark.
I feel my orange hair and the high hairline with my calloused hands. My eyes gleam and i am staring again at the creek through my window , the orange hair is still there but it is blurring . Suddenly , orange seems to be the colour of my book , the OG11. My hair is not orange, it is black.

I look into the book and lose myself into the questions given in it , for the real world beckons.