Writting for the wedding of a friend, this story recounts the strangest wedding night of all time.
Somewhere between waking and sleeping on our journey towards the unfathomable deep, there comes a thin moment where we have one foot in the waking world and the other is in that other world where we relinquish conscious control.
Pausing here and straddled between two planets that drive one another like gears, the attentive traveler will notice a narrow door only wide enough to sidle through.
This is the border of sleep, where imagination and reality are braided together, a chasm in the crust of consciousness, venting the hot pumice of imagery into the irresistible magma of narrative.
Welcome to episode 35 of Stories from the Borders of Sleep, a semi regular podcast of curious tales from bordersofsleep.com featuring original stories by your host, Seymour Jacklin.
Visit bordersofsleep.com for more information or to leave feedback.
The artwork is by Robin Trainor, production by Tim Wiles, and the soundtrack for this week's episode is from Mind Reader by Carrie Live, and that is available from magnitude.com this podcast is also available on itunes.
So if you're ready to journey with me, then I shall begin the Night of the Niperquins by Seymour Jacklin they didn't go gentle into that good night, and there was plenty of raving at the close of day.
The whoops, the cheering of wedding guests wishing the couple well upon their way.
But there was no rage against the dying light.
Rather, a low, bright half moon dropped through felty clouds to illuminate their departure.
After the taxi had borne them out of sight and without the unifying force of the bride and groom to keep them together, the guests suddenly dispersed.
Seamus and Maria nestled back into their seats and breathed, drawing towards each other again.
On their wedding day, a couple plays an unrehearsed part to an audience of friends and relations, and it all seems a bit unreal.
They have to meet their known selves again at the end of the day.
Are you okay?
Seamus asked, exhausted.
Maria sighed.
They weren't quite alone, of course, but the taxi driver didn't seem to speak much English, and he was discreet, even diminutive.
In fact, he was rather too small for the job.
His feet barely reached the pedals, and he had to practically stare through the steering wheel to see where they were going.