RIDE

IMG_4218

A moment of peace. I feel nothing. There is a purity of light. Incandescent like a phosphorous flare but surgical white and constant. Nothing moves. Not a muscle… No eyes to see, yet I see this brilliant light so all-consuming, like a sun. Focus… I have thoughts but I can’t think how… or why? It’s a quantum space, a moment not yet observed or observable. What is the I that I think of? I have no eyes to see or ears to hear. Is there time? Not that I can quantify. This is between time and space: A singularity? A pause.

First to return was olfactory. A scent as blue as the remembered hills… a Gran smell, to put a name to it? Evening in Paris… a by-gone era evoked… maybe war-time? Could it be a spirit come to guide me… maybe a relative? My Gran used to wear it… Am I In THE now? Not just a notion in a singularity, smell means senses. Can I see? Can I hear? Can I taste or touch? The smell comes from nowhere. Is it a blind memory of a smell… The I has no head to pin his hat to. So the smell must be part on this none- place. And by the Smell so must all other senses enlarge like a Big Bang event? Maybe a sound is arriving

The sounds are opaque… sinuous soft like an echo of a half- known melody. The timbre of the ocean slipping and sliding across the shore, is there a voice? A notion of other in the vibrations of this unknown… So sweet the sound , so evocative of… What? With no body or mind as far as the I can comprehend… How can a semi-sonorous echo evoke anything? But it does… It evokes a feeling called love! A sound to cocoon this I in a place of safety… No pain can exist within this sphere of sound and scent. Memories of purity. Like the Luminous blanched white world. No harm can enter these sacred halls.

The I is so dry… Taste must be recovered… water… Pure water… Maybe the sound is a waterfall? I can taste the water… Like a spring which has been percolating through lime stone for eons… How long has it been? Forever, the I feels it has been forever since the dryness of it’s throat has been slated… A throat? Can the I gulp? Can the I swallow? Slowly The I is becoming me… It begins as a droplet of blood… I am the droplet of blood pulsing through the veins in me… I am me. Searching through this memory the I becomes a perfect 0 an 0 as part of a binary setting. A code of 011100110 denotes a part of the me… Is the I a computer code denoting the me? Voices in the sound scape, hurried voices… And a pulse… another binary code, but 0’s occupy the large gaps between the 1. Sudden sharp pain… A jolt, a thunder bolt… a war with Thor? quiet. lots of 00000’s then a 1. Another Jolt, a punch in the chest… And the I is angry. Stop that. Pain. No to pain. and the 0 is followed by a 1 then 0 then 1… And the me comes through out of the vacant I and he is screaming… Stop! The return is pain. The return is suffering. The return is everything… All at once, like a family waiting at a terminal, waiting for their long-lost… And the I, the frozen I, has become me, and its all too much… The pain, the feeling, the caring for the who’s and the where’s and the why-fores… And the me wonders whether this might be hell… Or is it just a ride?

I THINK THIS IS A MEMORY OF AN HALLUCINATION INDUCED BY GAS AT THE DENTISTS.

DALE ‘M’

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.