sinking

September 12, 2010

a sinking feeling pulls on the ends of my jeans. My shoes – now cold – almost submerged. There’s a broken mirror floating my way.

It came up and sat down. These puddles formed in my shoes, making it uncomfortable, but I couldn’t see anything but water. It was black, and rocking back and forth. Nothing was reflecting on it, which i thought was weird until it sank down and I couldn’t see it anymore. it was easy to forget after then, so i continued on my way, thinking about coffee and a young man i had met before, or wished to meet, or would soon have met.

things like that are just distractions though. Like days that just disappear after they pass, like a child running in the opposite direction or a speeding car.

but just then i tripped, and sank down underneath.

spilling things in such a masterful way – What is the passing of time but just moving? In all directions, of course. One moves backwards when staying still for too long. perhaps i am simply a catalyst, a bystander not included in the process yet I am the cause of the effect. the world, myself, simply there. Why must things have a reason behind it? Reasons are simply made up rules.

I fear the day i trip and fall through, or unlock the door with my thoughts, i fear it will happen in a most inconvenient way, at a bad time. (though it can only happen at THE time)

I fear this will result in an earthly death. it seems so inconcievable yet i know it’s there.

twelve, or maybe eleven dimensions seem just right to explain these things floating around, because they are above it. Am i the one who thinks this or is it the anti-me?

…for an unforeseen side effect

Transcribed and edited from the past.

Jun. 19th, 2009 | 01:08 pm

dreaming with our hands, dreaming with our minds

A cold, blue and black hallway in the same colored building, a lot of glowing metal laying around. It’s all very alien, but apparently I have been here many times before. Walking, perhaps running, trying to get to a class on time. I made it while kids were still standing around, talking.

Seeing old classmates in a new situation, saving a small furry creature in biology class. Then, nothing. No aim, no angle. Just leaving, walking around and yelling “Hello? Is anybody out there?”. Dreaming has been forgotten by others.

Somewhere that I used to go to all the time, yet now I live so far away in both space and time. It’s familiar yet old. It’s my elementary school. I can feel panic even though I can’t really see people. The sky is night, I can see through the windows, yet, there are strange streaks of red and orange that seem to yell ‘run’. I can tell something is going on, so I’m trying to find something. I run outside, to see a strange object crash onto the playground, turning it into just a field. Like in those movies, a UFO. I can see people, sort of, because they’re running so fast. A man comes out of the object. Tall, dark, sinister. He floats instead of walks. I hide behind a brick wall yet I can’t help but peak around the corner. “He won’t look at me, I’m only one of hundreds of children,” I think to myself, or perhaps yell it out loud because he slowly turns my way. Paralyzed with terror I can only wait for him. But a second later, not even, my feet begin to slowly rise. I’m floating, almost surfing, yes I’m surfing on the air, and I stumble as I skate away.

The man is talking to me now. “Where are you going? You can’t escape. I am the End, I will kill everyone”. I could hear his voice ringing though my ears as clear as if it was blasted to me. He has one of those movie antagonist voices that thunders into me. I think I’m crying, but I’m not sure because of the paralysis you get when you fear for your life in the first few minutes. But after that I can only feel numb.

A feeling of helplessness is overwhelming, but… I am superior because I can fly! the sensation lingers when I awake. although, so does the man’s voice.

my safe place

May 29, 2010

Laying with my head back, i can feel the world engulf me like an amazing bean-bag chair. it presses on my arms and my legs and my hands; sometimes a little painful. but comforting nonetheless. this is the place i go to feel safe. a lonely place, but for some reason my head thinks that’s best. i tend not to think logical things through.

there are fields and endless fresh-water lakes. the water is such a deep turquoise it almost seems black if you don’t look close enough. there’s a bed for me here, floating, with a canopy to shade me from the sun – there are no clouds. it floats easily. there are no waves. there are only mountains on the horizon, full of jungles and life in the far far distance. if i lay back, with my eyes looking at the bottom of the canopy,I can see vines.

At first they crawl slowly along edges, and then slide inwards. their motion is accompanied by these strange strings of light, and tiny particles of blues and purples. it’s beautiful, and if i’m lucky, i can watch them meet from both sides and entangle each other in the center above me. that’s my favorite part – vines growing together and moving in opposite directions.

there are creatures in this place. but they keep to themselves, and they can’t see me. i think it has something to do with echo-location, or they can’t see in the same spectrum as me. or maybe i’m not there at all, although i can feel it.

my arms feel as if they are spreading apart and going upwards. the sensation of floating, almost, but my body remains on a bed. if i lean out, to dangle my feet in the water, sometimes i can fall off doing that – floating upwards. it takes me a long time to get back again.

i like the water. it’s cold but not freezing. it’s nice on my feet – slowly moving my legs out and into the water over and over.

other times, i find land. the endless sea morphs into the endless field. although there’s always a forest on the horizon somewhere. this land is not as flat as the sea, and there are nice, gentle-sloping hills as far as i can see. although there are numerous flowers, there is only one kind – a white flower with a yellow center. i think it’s alright. they’re small and soft. there are no sticks, or rocks, and i’ve never seen dirt – the grass is lush but not so long that it irritates my feet. It’s perfect for running through. but i never do. i never really stay long in the fields, since i prefer my sea.

this is where I go to be Elsewhere.