Story for What a wicked thing you do... To make me dream of you - Vista Hill

Repeats
It all started with an infatuation and inability to focus on anything else. The road ahead was going to have peaks and valleys, but it loomed large in my mind. The thought occupied my already riddled mind, a silent distraction that started as a whisper and evolved into a symphony pulling me in. Vista, Station, Ravine, East Shore, Vista, repeat, repeat, repeat. It was a mantra I saw written on every wall as my train soared along its tracks, on my screen as emails arrived in my inbox, seared into the backs of my eyelids with every blink and pause. Driving me closer, closer to a precipice that was a point of no return. Finally, burning, churning, turning, stressing the chains that hold every fibre of my being together I silenced the voices. Vista, Station, Ravine, East Shore, Vista, repeat, repeat, repeat. Warm euphoria washed over me having vanquished the thoughts, the noise, the halo of distance that separated me from the world, my silent nemesis. Cleansed from the disruption I lay down to slumber a tired and accomplished man. As my eyelids get heavy and the moments of light are outnumbered by the dark my mind clears, a white silence of clear expanse. And as I finally drift into the netherworld of the sleeping mind, from the limitless potential of the dream world materializes the vision – Vista, Station, Ravine, East Shore. Repeats.