The Book Of Nightmare - Four

(IV) The Nightworld Forest Is this the end? This turning of the road, veering left, passed dense sumac bushes already autumn red, and entering a forest of indeterminate size. What are we to make of this latest place in the deep forest of the Night? We need help down here to judge each moment's reality. Space is unchanged for us, we understand extension. But the mystery of time has increased and we do not understand duration. We assume the forest may hold help... The ones we sent into the darkness come back in two groups: Stragglers crawl out the forest, stretch and contract their bodies, make low animal sounds, and sleep on the grass. They say nothing to us. When they awake, they are shocked at their nakedness, confused by their plight: 'Where have I been? Where are my clothes? What is this place? ' We clothe, and comfort them as best we can. Adagio music helps. Others stride out of the forest, completely self-possessed. They stand or lean but never sit, they say nothing but their names, ignore our questions, look with disdain on those we have wrapped in borrowed clothes. We were once a company, a visionary company, we drew from the same source, exchanged and amplified our individual resources. We are now panting survivors, or we are aloof watchers, or are we a third group still being formed by powers beyond us? I only know this: My turn to enter the forest occurs next month: I would rather be a lost soul in the darkness, or a naked, shivering thing than one of those striders who no longer exhibit our common humanity. A forest without end blocks our advance. A wide valley with a tumultuous river snakes behind us. And above us is the huge expanse of a steel-blue, cloudless sky.