The Nightmare (1781) by Henry Fuseli
You know that feeling you get when you start to get old and realize that those things you assumed you would get around to doing are never actually going to happen?
Ancil awoke once more in the dark room.
“Ok, so why? Are we restoring our relationship? Who are you? Are you the same one?”
The reply came out of the dark. “The same one as..?”
The asker realized he was afraid to say what he meant. Very afraid. He tried a different approach. “Are you… the same as me?”
“In some ways. We share similar beliefs. Appetites.”
“That’s… that’s not what I mean.” It was quiet.
“What do you mean?”
“Are you the same type of thing as me? Are you, I don’t know, human?”
“What would it mean if I were?”
“It would mean… It would mean perhaps I could understand. It would mean I know to some extent where this is going, and where it is not.”
“Where would you like ‘it’ to go?”
“The truth?” It was quiet again, for a long time.
“Yes.”
“Well, for one, I think I deserve some credit for not getting caught up in questions that can’t be answered.”
“Yes.”
“And for another, I feel like there should be more.”
“Yes.”
“But most of all… I just don’t want to forget anymore. I don’t want to…”
“Have the wool pulled over your eyes?”
“That’s it! I want to… I want to…”
“See. You want to see. You want to have your eyes opened. Well, I can’t do that for you. Neither can wanting it, wanting it ‘sooo bad‘,” the thing intoned mockingly. “Wanting, wanting, you creatures — ha! — always wanting, thinking it some sort of virtue. You are going to lose it if you do not hurry. You must be quick as well as endure. But you can’t. I know because you must have done so already, and you have not. For that reason, I leave you as you mark these, my words to you, the last you will ever hear: you will never find that which you seek. It is over for you. You must have earned it already. It is too late. Too late.”
The way was shut. The light came on, and all he could see was a room. A plain room. The room where it all began.