Turning into a carousel horse. Ever wondered why the horses on merry-go-rounds look like they are in agony?

At least he will be one of the beautifully carved stationary horses, even if he cannot appreciate this fact, or even be able to appreciate anything at all.

(This is definitely one of the works I am most satisfied with. In order to create it, I had to first build a human fleshed base which could stand as a horse tf on its own. The final work took over 200 layers.

Also, quite often when I imagine or daydream, I experience what I think about almost as if it was a real sensory experience, although I am always aware of the distinction. I also frequently have lucid dreams in this manner. There are two downsides to this. One, my past never goes away, and I can feel every emotion I felt at the time, excruciating or not, the more intense the feelings, the harder it is to break out of the memory. (There are benefits too, as I can experience phantom limbs and other bodily perceptions and imagine whatever I would like.)

The second downside, however, is that my nightmares are as real as my waking moments, and this photomanipulation came straight from one of my nightmares.

It felt like I was dying. The ghost seemed very kind and reassuring despite my horror; it was as if it was merely a child with a child's understanding (the juxtaposition of person-hood upon inanimate objects), but it didn't understand that I couldn't be sentient or even alive as a carousel horse, so it continued to progress the transformation as my arms and legs locked into their final positions and went numb, my lungs and heart ossified, and I stopped breathing, I was suffocating with an unrelenting, implacable need for air, and my muscles cramped beyond comprehension, pulling tighter and tighter, nerve endings, white hot fading to ice cold emptiness, and finally my eyes dried out and hardened into wooden shells as the world darkened around me, and as the wood crept up my spine and into my brain, the terror and the thrashing of my survival instinct dulled and everything went blank. I continued to have a vague impression of being that form, but I wasn't me. All I knew was that calm, mindless abyss, filled only by the ghost's projecting an imaginary life upon me, which disappeared when the morning came and the ghost vanished.

It is one thing to have a dream like this and see everything with the objectivity of the fantastic, knowing that one is not present or distinguishing one's situation from one's imagination. It is another to experience the feelings as if you don't realize that this is not reality. And it was truly frightening; I woke up in a cold sweat and had to capture this as an image to get it out of my head.)