RamblingRambler

I am in an Antiochian Orthodox church service, sitting by all by myself in a wooden pew. The sanctuary is wide, ornate and well-lit. Like any Orthodox church, the iconostasis behind the altar is teeming with images of Mary, the saints and Jesus Christ in stages of his ministry. It is right before the Eucharist, the time when the clergy shuffle down the center aisle waving their incensed lanterns.

As the clergy passes, the bald, stout man in the pew in front of me turns around and stares at my forehead. I am too taken aback by this sudden attention to say anything. The man initiates small-talk, asking me questions about myself and why I decided to visit this church. I tell him about myself - or at least try to - but he always brings the conversation back to his interesting life and all his original and wonderful theological views. In the middle of his ranting, I suddenly notice a very disturbing feature on this man's face.

Whenever he opens his mouth, an obsidian, mouth-shaped slit opens up on his forehead and talks concurrently to whatever he's saying. It's exactly the shape of his real mouth but miniaturized. I think I can spot some miniature rows of teeth in there as well. A clammy uneasiness trickles through my body. I feel like my reality has been shattered by this two-mouthed man.

Before I can think too critically about the physiological impossibility of all this, I convince myself, I shouldn't judge; I'm sure he's really a nice, normal guy.

Next thing I know, I am at my parent's house. I stroll into the kitchen for a glass of water and instead am greeted by this two-mouthed man. He is sitting expectantly with his hands folded on the kitchen table.

How did he get here? Will he follow me around for eternity?

In shock, I try to think of something to say. Eventually, I ask him, "Do you like the house?"

The two-mouthed man replies, with the fissure in his forehead aping every word, "I ought to. I built this place, after all."

I am surprised, stunned and very creeped out.

~End Dream~