Monitors

It wouldn't make any sense. It wouldn't make any sense to just tell it, that is. Like - just explain it. I could say that I was in this dark little room. I think I was thinking about things. There was a little cot. I was on it. Word on the ceiling - WATCH. A little TV comes on in the middle of the wall with snowy reception. A monitor. A monitor? [Hazard of the job. I wake up at this point in a sort of panic, but curious about what's onscreen, I go back to sleep.] Lying on the cot. There's someone outside the door - I can tell. I'm dreaming though, so I'm not worried. Another monitor comes on from elsewhere in the room. I jump up to look at a screen, and a few more jump to life behind me. The room is becoming brighter. [I wake up again at this point, and, again, make myself go back to sleep.] I'm trying to make out what's on the screen, but I can't quite tell. More monitors are clicking on, as others are in different states of clearing reception. There's movement on the screen. People. Strange familiarity. About half the monitors are on - they seem to completely fill the walls. Then I come to the realization that it's me on the monitors. Me and people I know. Friends, family, and such. Most of the monitors are on now and the room is horribly bright. Looking over at the cot, I find it to be a washed out pale colour. There's deep lines etched into the ceiling and I notice more graffiti. [Should have read more of it!] I think about how hard it would be to sleep with all this light. I'm racing around looking at all these screens, and I'm realizing that they're showing scenes from my life. I'm trying to look at them all - maybe I'm looking for something in particular? I look over just in time to catch the last monitor clicking on. The light becomes too intense and there's some kind of horrible noise that has been building unnoticed. [I wake up, fast. I scrawl this on bedside notebook:

I've managed to keep down the poison
Things always turn out this way
I lay on the ground in the darkness
Sick, with my head buried in my arms

Further attempts at reconnecting to this dream fail, and, instead, I fall into a dead dreamless coma for a couple hours.]