Strange George...

Strange George and his extreme dreams that reach beyond all that has previously been imagined, and may as an undesirable but seemingly inherent consequence, trigger lengthy bouts of violent, yet passive bedwetting.


Chapter 1: The Door

Strange George was enjoying the rollercoaster, that was until a sudden, yet surprisingly not terrifying flash of light occurred and George found himself ankle-deep in a yellow fluid that smelt distinctly of urine. He thought to himself, ‘my goodness, how can this happen?’ luckily for George this had never happened, nor indeed, will ever happen because, like a lot of dire situations that George often found himself in, it was a terrifyingly realistic dream. George placed a lot of stock in these dreams; in fact he believed them unrelentingly to the point of callousness... Bigoted callousness.

Luckily for George the sudden appearance of the urine-esque fluid in this very much ‘un called for’ dream was due to the fact that whilst apparently indulging in the quasi-real highs and lows of the ‘jingle-jingle’ roller coaster, he was in fact embarking on a bout of decidedly violent bed wetting. This dream, not unlike a decidedly large portion of Strange George’s life was a lucid fantasy. What the doctors found particularly fascinating was the fact that he wasn’t sleeping at the time the cork-screwing loop-de-looping fluid-ejecting - ankle-deep weirdness occurred. This was dissimilar yet not unheard of amongst their other subjects. Although most other patients that the doctors treated had dreams of life-like fantasies that were lacking in sheer delusionary power when compared to Strange George, their ‘Star Pupil’ if you will. Such was the power of George’s Tea-Leaf prophecies that he lived his life in a state of perpetual terror, this affected his daily routines in many ways, least of all was the fact that he was incessantly scared completely shitless. One morning, after a particularly brutal hallucination that almost cost Strange George his sanity (or rather, what was left of it, nay, a fine strand of some sense of reality stretched taught but nonetheless linked to real life, amidst the obscene tapestries of graphic visions that littered his almost unfathomable mind) he decided to bring his acute psychological irritations to a sudden and abrupt end, and prepared himself to go on an extended journey to the centre of his mind, he picked up his linen shoulder bag, stuffed to the proverbial ‘hilt’ with various love potions he had concocted, also in the bag were various senses he had bottled and needed only the briefest sniff of to bring about their not insubstantial powers. Amongst these were bottles containing a sense of direction, a sense of hope, a sense of the correct usage of wording to use when moderating a battle betwixt the forces of darkness and the forces of light and finally, a bottle containing the soul of a demon that Strange George had managed to swiftly capture one rainy Tuesday evening.  It was at this moment that George suddenly dropped his linen shoulder bag causing the bottle containing the demon to break allowing the demon freedom, before returning to it’s foul domain in the depths of Hades, a place that carried a noticeable stench of sulphur which the cleaners make no attempt to disguise, he turned to mutter foul curses at Strange George in an ancient tongue that, roughly translated meant that George would not enjoy life should he die and be banished to hell as this demon had sworn to use the full extent of it’s powers to punish George for all eternity, mainly via the medium of lacerations and vinegar. However, George had no time for such piffling trifles and stared aghast before him, as he came back to reality. The view before him was simultaneously perplexing and invigorating. He clenched his fists, nay we say, his entire body which was by now, technically a spatial entity devoid of the limitations that mortality brought, he saw a door through which only the righteous could pass, it was a door that was indeed gleaming, yay shining… lo, it was a door through which the yay, indeed… not righteous could not pass, oh and yay it was particularly righteous, as may have been previously referenced, and it appeared to have some biblical context, George took a seat from the enormous stack of seats next to him that was until now, unnoticed, despite the fact that George  had tripped over the pile of chairs several times and had broken his nose, luckily George had over ten noses that he interchanged for various; very specific special occasions… in fact George had a particularly special nose that functioned like an automobile crumple zone that absorbed much of the impact of an unplanned fall in which much of the impact is absorbed via the face, as George’s arms lacked a fore-arm segment. (as you may not have pre-conceived) this meant that George was unable to use his arms to break any fall that might befall him, a disadvantage he shared with his second favourite dinosaur, the Tyrannosaurus Rex (his favourite dinosaur obviously being a Plesiosaur). This was in some ways fortunate for George as he hated fore-arms, many was the time he would parade soberly around the town square as he conveyed his beliefs on this matter quite audibly (you may say he, ‘spoke his ideas aloud’) by the vibrating of his vocal chords in such a manner that it produced sound-waves that could be interpreted by any listener (with, of course fully or indeed partially functioning inner-ear drums, or occasionally poorly operating ear drums aided by an electronic device universally referred to, quite accurately as a ‘hearing-aid’, Which is indeed much as its name sternly implies, an ergonomically designed gadget that ‘aids hearing’) as certain choice words taken from the English language
If we may be so bold as to travel back to the vicinity that the point was in but moments ago, George spent a great deal of time studying this door at his most internally intricate level, which involved placing rolled-up sheets of paper with triangles of varying sizes drawn on them betwixt ball-point pens all pointing towards George and large burnt-together clumps of human hair sellotaped to key sections of the doors frame.  Anyway, as mentioned before… neither dull, nor uncared for in any way was the righteous door. Strange George vowed (to himself at least) to put a stop to this ludicrousness that was his seemingly ceaseless internal dream engine that so interrupted his everyday tasks, such as the one he was currently in the middle of, which was attempting to decipher if a door he had happened upon had any plausible reference in a purely biblical context.

Unfortunately for George, it was at this point in time that he snapped out of his deep state of  contemplation  in which he called upon all 30 of his IQ points to bear upon the question of the of the evolution of consciousness, and turned his attention to the afore-mentioned ‘door’. Which was now gleaming more vividly than ever before, indeed more vividly than can be conveyed by any array of the words in any earthly language placed in any possible order. George felt that the door was beckoning him, Nay, enticing him forward. As he delicately stepped toward it he pondered what may lie on the other side, pixies? Hirsute, satchel carrying warlocks, or perhaps even bands of travelling, riddle reciting caravan sales-persons, or indeed ….nothing, an absence of being, an eternal pit of blackness, grossly unimaginable in its infinity…or simply the peace George craved? George stood before the door an emotional shell of a man, imagining the coarse, basic but nonetheless deadly tools that the previously un-thought of ogres that possibly lay in wait beyond the door could bring to hand in the blink of an eye. It was at this point George decided to side-step the door and continue his journey on more familiar grounds, contemplating such encounters as that of the appearance of the semi-nude yet hideously un-attractive demons that were more of regularity that a discomfort in George’s more sexually charged dream-travels.

George felt a rush of emotional safety as he side-stepped the door of possible, highly biblical righteousness, only to encounter another door which indeed, was not only similar to the previous door which George had but moments ago side-stepped, but was uncannily identical to, therefore George stepped through the apparently unavoidable door of dreams.

Chapter 2: The Insurance Office

George stumbled out of the Janitor’s utility room, his clothes a rumpled mess, it had been an eventful cigarette-break, made all the more suspicious considering the fact that George didn’t smoke. Suddenly and without malice of fore-thought, his secretary informed him (strangely, through a loud-hailer even though she was holding his hand at the time, and so standing mere inches away) that Mr. Jones was waiting in room two for his private pre-booked session on the dangers of tax evasion. As well as informing George of this session, his secretary also went on to tell him that but moments ago she had heard a sharp popping sound that she was unable to define the cause of with any certainty, although she then informed Strange George that at the time she had heard the popping sound, she had been swinging a cutlass around her office at just above head-level, an office she had previously filled with helium balloons. George thought he had solved this puzzle and was about to tell his secretary that the sound was more than likely caused by the contact betwixt sword and balloon, when he saw that one of her eyes had filled up with blood and so the popping sound had probably been an aneurysm and she should probably seek medical attention as soon as possible.
With this situation cleared up, George strode to room two to confront Mr. Jones on various topics, most specifically his wife’s suspected infidelity with him (which for reasons of political correctness George would tactfully describe via the medium of Morse code). As George’s hand was closing over the door-knob to room two, which contained a sexually heightened Mr. Jones, whose sexual arousal could be put down to a simple morning mix up of his angina tablets and his ‘sex-pills,’ George suddenly wished he was not standing in the insurance offices of ‘Buntington & Gently’ about to give a lecture to a respected, middle-aged client on the subject of the dangers of tax evasion, cunningly interspersed with references to his wife’s promiscuousness (which ties in nicely to another topic he would bring up which was his disturbingly detailed knowledge of local assassins) all conveyed by placing a small metal thimble over his index finger and tapping his wooden desk at irregular yet shrewdly considered intervals, which although easily over-looked by some amateur Morse code enthusiasts, formed the back-bone of the language. Yes, George wished he was not in this situation but was instead standing at a marketplace just outside of Dudley that specialised in selling a wide variety of carrots, possibly conversing with a passing farmer dressed up as a horseradish who may or may not be on a pseudo-farcical quest to obtain some kind of much revered vegetable, possibly from a gentleman who ran an ostrich farm whose name may or may not form an obscenely convoluted (you may even describe it as ‘nonsensical’) acronym.
Nonetheless, this passing fancy was swiftly quashed by the weight of his impending appointment with Mr. Jones, as George’s hand made with the brass door-knob, he retracted his limb in pain as the handle was white-hot, causing George to think that an inferno lay beyond the seemingly innocent, unskilfully varnished ply-wood panelling that stood before him.

George had only a few moments to react, he decided to kick the door down and rescue Mr. Jones from what by now, George believed with no uncertainty was an electrical fire in his office, with this in mind, George took a run up to boot the door open.
Unfortunately for Strange George, and indeed all those involved, the run-up George had taken was over 4 miles long and encompassed several bus journeys, and so by the time he returned to the offices of ‘Buntington & Gently’ to kick open his office door, it had completely burnt down, leaving only charred foundations as a testament to it’s previous existence.
George wasted no time in asking a passing fire-fighter as to the cause of the blaze and was surprised but not shocked to learn that it was most probably the fault of a certain ‘Mr. Jones’
Apparently Mr Jones’ sexual emotions had reached such a tremendous height due to his innocent mix-up of angina tablets and ‘love-tablets’ that very morning, that he had simply burst into flames, causing pieces of his smouldering clothes to set alight to George’s book-shelf , a book-shelf that contained many works related not only to the finance sector, but also many books that dealt with the niche genre of phallic-shaped fruit preparation for usage in exotic although unfortunately mostly inedible salads.

Chapter 3: Home At Last

Following the trauma that was centred around the burning down of the law offices of ‘Buntington & Gently,’ George deduced that he would need several months recuperation in order to gather his occasionally (although at this time, quite alarmingly) scattered thoughts.
The best way to recuperate in this most specific of situations he deduced, was to transcend to a kind of comatose-dream state via the means of injecting a concoction of exotic herbs and spices, although, technically the main ingredients were a subtle blend of bleach and absinthe…. Into his tear-duct. George often chose his tear-ducts as the ideal place on his person to inject various liquids when the need arose, as he didn’t use them for their more commonly known function of crying. Indeed, one may he had no need as his eyes were made of highly polished brass.
After making this decision, George retreated into the shadows, and then from there, to his home, which was very much ‘in the shadows.’
George’s house was a unique entity, well, in ‘this’ world, although in the plains George inhabited during his forays into the further realms of his imaginings, beyond the measly 4 dimensions which George now scoffed at, it was a relatively common-place item. His house was mysterious concoction of rustic wooden panelling and powerful dreams, which by using hitherto unknown psychological techniques, George had summoned into ‘our’ reality, as a means of providing a form of cheap housing, very cheap housing. You may describe George’s abode a ‘magical house’ full of mystery and intrigue. It was unique in many ways, least of all in the fact that the inside of the house was comprised of total, impenetrable darkness.
And so, after using his key to enter the aforementioned house, (a key that George maintained was a solid object, but was not of made of any material as yet known to science. In fact some may argue that the key was indeed ‘not real’ as it was entirely transparent and could only be held by George) George sat down on his ‘Dream-Throne’ (which was, to the untrained eye, primarily constructed from ‘Soft-Mist’), injected the previously mentioned concoction into his tear-ducts and raised his hands in front of his face, where he began to twist his fingers into hitherto unseen shapes (helped along by the total lack of bones in George’s hands). Some shapes would be of a resemblance of animals long since extinct, whilst other shapes would be a physical interpretation of abstract notions, which George brilliantly illustrated by flowing, rhythmic motions of his fingers in unison with several of his toes, such was his level of ‘toe-control.’
As George’s limbs neared the end of the dance, there was a sudden flash of ‘mind-light’ and George, (or his elevated consciousness at least) finally left this plane of existence.

Chapter 4: Dream Travels To The 15th Dimension

As George tumbled haplessly through other, 'tamer' dimensions, he felt a heightened sense of purpose (was it purpose he now felt? Or was he now capable of thinking thoughts beyond the descriptive capabilities of earthly languages), yes, this was what he was really about, here, between times (and indeed, places) he ceased to be another suit at the much revered and yet recently immolated Insurance offices of 'Buntington & Gently' here, he became more than simply the sum of his emotional parts, he rose beyond all the events in his life that have shaped him into the person he was back on good ole' Terra Firma. He laughed as he transcended our reality (was it laughing? Or had his consciousness simply super-imposed a tangible reality to keep him grounded… in an emotional sense at least) as he accelerated towards his chosen destination (or had the destination chose him?) George became nervous, he had never travelled this far outside his usual dream-scape before and he truly had no sense of what awaited him.

After what felt like a few moments, but could have easily been many thousands of millennia (did it make sense to talk of time in such terms?) George felt himself separate his mind from the moment-to-moment experience, he had no idea if he had achieved this voluntarily, George at this point wondered if his thoughts and actions were now simply decided by fate, if fate existed in a place such as this where past, present and future all moved as one towards a true, as yet unknown (perhaps unknowable) goal. Suddenly George felt himself reaching his final destination and braced himself for the emotional impact that could possibly be a danger when entering (for the virginal time) such far reaches of the cosmos. He became enveloped in a pure energy and felt his mind being probed and massaged as if by a metaphysical feather duster, as though he was being examined for some as-yet unforeseen challenge. yet all too soon, as swiftly as it had come, the energy left his being and he felt naked and wondered briefly if anything would ever compare to such a sensation. As the last of the energy disappeared into the distance, George found himself lacking any substance in either a physical or metaphysical sense... his concern grew.

Floating silently onwards, George realised now that he had reached the pinnacle of everything, here, where the frame-work of reality broke down, was quite simply the culmination of everything that had ever been, and everything that never was, he was everywhere and indeed nowhere, where would he travel from here? He always assumed at the back of his 'mind' that upon reaching such a 'place' he would feel at least some kind of completion or release, but here he found himself unable to grasp the concept of anything, here was only emptiness in it's truest from...infinity and George.... his concern was swelling.
George felt himself panicking, his 'mind' aching for some sense of something so it at least had an opportunity to return itself return to more familiar grounds. George felt himself slipping towards the teetering brink of insanity and so tried to calm himself by incorporating the methods of circular breathing made popular by the aborigines when playing their traditional instrument, the didgeridoo. Finally the nothingness of this dimension completely engulfed George, the circular breathing exercise he had briefly embarked on was deemed relatively, nigh, completely useless to him as he had no lungs, or oesophagus or indeed, body. Also working against him was the fact that he was now in a vacuum and so had no air to breathe, as air was somewhat scarce in this bleak, endless void.

George could feel himself separating and opened his mind to scream, luckily for George, at the very moment of his total descent into insanity, a kind of 'Inter-Dimensional' fail safe kicked in and he was wrenched back to his own dimension (and indeed back to his own body) where he could ponder on an epiphany beyond any conventional experience.

Chapter 5: Back in the Shadow-House

George found himself on the floor feeling strangely noxious, and retched out some leftover time from his travels, he raised himself to a sitting position and immediately felt his crotch, he had (as usual) wet himself. What came as a surprise to George however was the sheer extent of his urination, he was completely saturated, although he didn’t really mind as it was to be expected after the ludicrousness of the journey in which he had just partaken, he felt lucky to be alive and made a silent vow to himself to embark on no more dream-travels past the 9th Dimension. He stood up amidst the total, impenetrable darkness that was the main distinguishing feature of his ‘Shadow-House’ and ventured towards the front door to feel the sunlight on his face that he hadn’t felt in so long.

Chapter 6: Pnub


Much to George’s dismay however, upon opening his front door he was displeased by the lack of a cityscape that was usually the scene that greeted him, instead, he was greeted by the sight of a giant glowing orb that appeared to represent the shared consciousness of all humanity, surely enough, and to George’s abundant delight, the orb was precisely that. This certainty was solidified in George’s mind when the orb ‘spoke’ aloud,
‘Come George, my child….we have been awaiting you, Pnub, my child….Pnub’

George leapt aloft and clicked his heels with glee and embarked on a small bout of spontaneous prancing on the spot such was his delight at this revelation, he cast his mind back to several years ago when he met a travelling ’Ghosts kept in jars’ salesman named Oscar, a man he had paid handsomely in exchange for a great many of his wares. This very man had told George of a story, a story that turned out in this case to be very much a prophecy, as the man spoke of a mystical time in the distant future where mankind would evolve into a single consciousness and live in harmony as one, exploring space and time together as a single vast spiritual entity. This moment would be signified by the mention of the word ‘Pnub’ meaning, ‘All things at once’
George could feel the warmth of a shared boundless happiness emanating from the orb, at this point George realised that his future lay not in various Dream-Travels alone, but exploring our universe together with all humanity, exploring space and time simultaneously and in the safety of numbers.

Chapter 7: A New Universe

George’s face was a picture of pure joy as he approached the orb and his body was dissolved into the ether. The orb seemed somehow complete as it had now bonded with the final prophet, in many ways the strongest of all the prophets. At the moment of joining in harmonious resonance, the orb expanded at speeds in excess of light, and so a new universe was born, a universe in which all were equal and there was an absence of pain and suffering, a universe in which no one person exerted power over its brethren. Except George, who was the all powerful ruler for all eternity… much to his delight.

   












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