Wait. It has passed. Deja Vu* can be very disturbing.

Muted Chaos. It sounds a bit funny to say, but that is the best description I can give for what I hear. It is difficult to judge the origin. My first guess, Sioctha le heagla, proves to wrong. The sound fades as I move toward that passage. So too does the sound fade as I move close to Brionglóid a bheith agat ar rud and Anois. Perhaps from behind the potted trees and shrubbery.

Behind the trees and potted greenery, is, much to no one's surprise, a door. Oddly enough, it is a massive door - odd in that I should've noticed it before now. There are no apparent means to open the door, and it is in fact quite heavily barred. One small and very thick window provides a glimpse inside. Plans and diagram, unreadable through the glass, line the walls. And there is a solitary figure.

What picture do you get in your mind's eye when I mention Mengele? I see a gaunt man, thin and tall. I see a man of keen intellect. One who uses his sharp mind to further evil. And mostly I see a man with cold eyes. Not the eyes of the dead, but one whose eyes are always looking at the dead (though some of those may not yet know they are dead). That is the type of man I see behind the glass. He is what would be considered multitasking. He is sharpening knives, polishing guns, brewing noxious potions, and even forging pointy/blade-filled/hooked implements of torture and death. I turn away, but not before he turns to catch a glimpse of me. His expression doesn't change, but his eyes reveal a longing to do unspeakable things. I think this door is shut tight for very good reasons.



When journeying through the mind, even a semi-fictional one, sometimes real life brain things happen. Like DejaVu. Like Jamais Vu. Like accidentally erasing an entire post and having to re-write the silly thing.

As I stepped out of the bathysphere, I immediately sensed a familiarity. This was, after all, my head, and I should be familiar with at least parts of what I see. I won't bore you with adjective laden descriptions of what I see, but I will from time to time point out interesting (at least to me) signposts, landmarks and other clever little places. For now, let me just point out that I will be exploring and you are invited along. Stay as long as you want; leave as soon as you can - you know where the exit is located.

The first random door leads to a rather nondescript room. In it are two men, who appear to be having a rather heated discussion. I don't really want to bother them, but they insist upon interacting with me. The first, Cotard, is convinced that he is dead. Poor fellow, he seems quite sincere. His roommate, as it where, does not seem particularly perturbed. He, Capgras, lets me in on the secret. His (our?) friend is an impostor. So, while he feels sorry for the man and his obvious illness, he is not grieved. His friend has been replaced by a this impostor; the reason for such is unknown however. And thus the heated discussion, with each insisting he is correct in interpreting the situation.

Closing the door, I look ahead to several passages. "Sioctha le heagla" reads one passage. It looks too dark an foreboding for now. Perhaps later. "Brionglóid a bheith agat ar rud" looks promising. But I am most interested in "Anois." And it that is where I will start.