A mosaic wall of tiny, flickering, squares filled his vision.

At first, the rapidly shifting colors, pulsating pixels, and constantly changing imagery made little sense.  A small square of black and red formed at the top right corner of his vision, while the remainder, flickered between bright white, gold, glassy colorations, and muted browns.  Then, shapes began to appear at random spots in his vision.  A flicker of emerald and ivory squares, appeared to his right, followed by shimmers of copper, and silver, closer to the lower end of the twinkling wall.

Rhomboidal bursts of reds and oranges appeared chaotically.  Rectangular shades of polished bronze, and sparkling diamond, blipped, and winked spasmodically.  Tiny glints of sapphire, and seaglass followed.  Box-shaped fireworks burst everywhere in front of him.  Tristan’s head swam with the disorienting display, and he closed his eyes to remove himself from the bombastic assault on his vision.  Several seconds later, he chanced a peek, only to find the square-shaped, pulsing, randomness had intensified in speed, and shift of colors, causing him to quickly shutter his eyelids.

Tristan clenched his right hand, and rubbed it into, first, his right socket, then his left.  Volcanic bursts of red light illuminated his mind with each turn of his wrist.  The period of dark calm on his vision, was a welcome relief, several seconds after he stopped rubbing his eyes.  Afterwards, the longer he kept eyelids closed, the more Tristan began to feel a sense of void and emptiness.  A slithering anxiousness began to worm its way through Tristan’s innards, and he shuddered at the shoulders, while his stomach clenched at an unexpected surge of nauseousness.

Tristan knew he would get nowhere by staying in the dark.  He knew that he had to open his eyes. He knew that he had to face what had been assaulting his vision.  He had braved the darkness, now he must brave the light.  He flexed and tensed, the muscles in his jaw.  He flexed the muscles of his biceps, triceps, and chest, squeezed his eyelids down, and held.

He opened his mouth wide, bellowed an agonizing yell into his darkness, and ripped open his eyes.

The mosaic wall of flickering lights was still in front of him.  The pixels shifted gradually from yellow, to white, to gold, to glass, and occasionally, to a metallic brown.  The coppery-shifts began at the corners of his vision, and then moved toward the center.  The metallic browns moved like a lethargic, pulsing serpent, inching their way towards the center, as skin-toned, flaxen squares shifted to accommodate and guide their progression.

The flickering, and migrating, in the squares slowed, as the russet colored squares coalesced, and formed shapes.   The yellow/gold squares were pushed, and shifted away from the center.  A bronze-shaped half-moon, curvature facing upwards, towards the sky, formed. The center of the copper canopy, between the dome and the flat bronze of its earth, remained brilliant white gold.  From the horizontal plank of brown, a stem projected downwards towards the lower extremities of Tristan’s vision.   From this stem, four, rightwardly-oriented, small, unevenly scattered, brown-metallic projections appeared, followed by two more, which were oriented towards the left side of the stem.

His vision began to pulse slowly, like a heartbeat, forcing the framed image into his mind with a rhythmic, steady insistence.

Tristan shook his head.  He didn’t need a reminder.  Tristan knew the image.  The mosaic began to coalesce. The bathroom began to reform around him. He knew again, where he was.  His left hand, held the flesh of his chest open, and his right hand traced a shape in the mirror.