You're A Stranger

Often, in lucid dreaming, I'm confronted with the worst parts of myself: fears, insecurities, jealousies, angers, etc. These unpleasant bits generally manifest themselves as an eleven-year-old boy named Marsan. He is the spitting-image of me as a child, with the exception of wearing nicer clothes and having the voice of a wise, old man. It's terribly unsettling, to hear that voice coming from that innocent-looking face.

I would love to go into detail of all the inhuman shit he's responsible for in my dreams (so much death) but hearing about other people's dreams is boring, and I could fill volumes with his exploits alone... 

...It took many, long years for me to figure out the boy was no stranger. Even though I could clearly see the resemblance, I refused to believe that he was any part of me. Dumb thinking when it comes to lucid dreams. He is more a part of me than any other I've encountered in the world of dreams, Hulland. A creature of the Id, if you will. And always, now and forever, my greatest antagonist.

This is how I most often see Marsan these days: a man grown from the darknesses of my subconscious, fearsome and quiet.
Blues have always been his colors.



Painted with Gimp.

_{high resolution prints available here on deviantART.davemishra.deviantart.com/prin…}