When I cannot sleep, I fall into the sweetest of dreams. I close my eyes and sense, with warm clarity, the presence of many oil creatures. They are small, tiny even, but each is unique. The loud ones spread out and expand, taking up space and declaring their presence with a boisterous red. The quiet ones are more dangerous, hard and stubborn. They burrow deep like little seedlings and grow, waiting for their time to come. There are others still, timid creatures, that cluster together and have no greater desire than to form one giant mass, a monster with a singular identity. I see them all, and I grin with malice. Their war against me will soon be over.
Gathering strength within myself, I begin by conjuring heat. A warm tickle, a friendly flame, just beginning its journey in this world. Then I feed it. I pour in my hunger and soon the fire burns. It swells, sweeping into the lands of those little oil creatures like a tsunami of red. It takes only a second.
Soon the creatures have melted, their personalities washed away under the power of heat. They are molten, raw oil looking for a place to go, like water following gravity. In each in little homes, there is an even little door that they have never noticed before. Not that they can notice anything any more. Their remains, the slush of their former bodies ooze out. Like pink goo churned out of a meat processor, the oil goo slink obediently out into the cold, cruel world.
Eyes still closed, I see the conquered bodies of the oil creatures surrendering. They willingly exit the trenches and lay themselves at my mercy upon the surface of my skin. Oh how they have tormented me, oh how I will enjoy my revenge. I raise a moistened wipe, and draw it across my skin with a callous swipe. The former pimples and whiteheads and blackheads and cysts and pustules and nodules all gathered up in less time than it takes to laugh. Despite my best efforts, an evil chuckle breaks free, and before long I am gleefully sweeping up the bodies of my fallen foes in shrouds of white, and tossing them into oblivion.
Joyful and sleepy, I revel in the victory. Soon, I too fall into oblivion, hoping that my dreams will be as good as this one.
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