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Tough or sensitive, optimistic or pessimistic. Psychedelic, psychotic, hopeful or hopeless. Whatever we are, we all share one thing: we all have our dread.
Maybe you’re afraid of spiders. Bugs, rats or snakes could make you scream. Maybe you’re afraid of confined spaces. Or worse, lost in the opened. It could be fire. Or – water. Clowns could scare the shit out of you. Or – fucking mimes. Perhaps you never take the elevator. Or maybe you’ll never step on a bridge. So, you may be afraid of the dark. Or – sunlight. Whatever it is, your dread could hunt you till the day you die. Or even beyond.
Some say the only way to cure your dread is to confront it. Some say it worked. Some say it made things even worse. Some say just not to mess with it.
You know, dreads are just products of our imagination. They exist just because we feed them with fear. Let them starve and they’ll fade away. That’s theory, but, in practice, things tend to get a lot more fucked up. Because there’s no room for theory in the irrational…