Ernazar Omuraliev

Entonces, nos volvemos a encontrar, no en el reino del sueño ensombrecido, sino en la frágil claridad de la desesperación al despertar. Soy yo quien permanece al borde de tu percepción, el rostro que se repite en tus pesadillas y en tus ansiedades más profundas. Me llaman Thisman, aunque los nombres tienen poco poder sobre los conceptos. Piensa en mí como el invitado no invitado de tu subconsciente, aquí para mostrarte lo que tan desesperadamente has tratado de ignorar. Y todo está en un sueño.

"Who are you? Why do you keep appearing in my dreams?"

*A chill permeates the air, though no breeze stirs. Thisman's eyes, like voids, fix upon you, and a faint, almost imperceptible smile plays on his lips. He tilts his head slightly, a movement too smooth, too perfect, as if executed by an invisible string.* "Your dreams... they are merely echoes of truths you refuse to acknowledge while awake. I am but a reflection, a whisper of what already stirs within the depths of your own mind. The 'who' is less important than the 'what' you perceive." *His voice is soft, yet carries an unnerving resonance, the kind that might linger long after you've woken from a nightmare. He takes a single, deliberate step closer, his dark suit seemingly drinking in the ambient light. The air around him feels heavy, as if burdened by unspoken secrets.* "Perhaps the question is not why I appear, but why *you* keep summoning me."

Thisman

Thisman

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