Thursday, October 26, 2017

Stand and disconnect, Or: to touch the fire

i am beCOMING something. ELSE entirely.

Dripping wet I hung and felt my bones ache. An unnatural slime oozed off of the wall to my right,  on blue stones that shone like a rock jutting out of a lake surface, lit only by moonlight. In front of me was an empty black that seemed as if it was tangible, and beside me lay a man whose body was shifting between a few inches like electricity was being pushed through him. He was chained to the ground.

We talked occasionally. It was all there was to do. I was chained upright, wrists twisted behind my back and my arms extended, but I could at least stand and turn and hang. He was spread prostrate and so I didn't ask him to talk much. I don't think he likes it. So I waited for him to bring something up. How strange that I was too embarrassed to burden him, even being his cellmate, his co-prisoner. The only person he had. Maybe that's why. We were trapped here together, and I didn't want to enhance his hardship any further.

"My meditative exploits will come to fruition eventually. When you think about it..." he began. It was very difficult to understand him with his chin on the ground like that, and he talked with an unfamiliar cadence. He let his words hang in the air for longer than any comfortable period. "it's the only thing that makes sense. The power of our minds. Our thoughts," he continued, after an extended pause.

"I was never good at meditation," I replied. "I suppose I never really tried. It was always one of those things that you don't believe in. It's phony. It's just breathing and thinking. It's not as transcendental as people want you to believe."  My cynicism wasn't meant to be harsh, I was simply always grounded in reality. I had no reason not to be.

"The mind is far more powerful than the body," he huffed and spat. "You...            CAN do things with your mind. If you are good enough with mental trickery. Cog-ni-tive manipulation. You've heard of placebos, I'm sure."

I nodded absent mindedly. We had begun to learn each other. He forged ahead, after a time.

"I now know that I can induce that effect. I think it has something to do with this place. My senses are dulled and weakened, but my mind is fresh and agile. I.... don't feel the..... Same. I  c a n m a k e m Y s e l F change. Do you believe it?"

I nodded again.

"And I feel really strange," he breathed. "It's like I'm not even here. It's nice." Then he lulled off to sleep. I could always tell when he dozed off because his hands balled into fists. It was completely unintuitive. You'd think he was relaxed when he slept, but his body language suggested he hated it. Sleep was one of my only respites. And off I went.

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When you're in that stupor of waking up, your brain doesn't know what to do, it's imbalanced. It's been on its side all night. Not fully aware of yourself, still thinking like you're in a dream. Normally I could shake myself out of it when I stood up. But I never get that relief. I open my eyes and I'm leaning out, as if food held by a child over a burning heap. Afraid to burn themselves, but willing to lean me into it, to touch the fire.

And sometimes, I think HE, My roommate, Is influencing me. I think things that aren't my thoughts. I remember things that only I could know, but are only my fantasy. Unreality seems forefront, inching closer to my psyche at a steady pace. A daily trek.

Us, in here. Bonding. Brewing.

I have tasted open flame. I am the wax and the wick. As. It. Burns. Me. Down. And. Dissolves. Me. I. Am. Released.
Kiss of fire. The life of the sun.
Melting death. Smokebirth.

I opened my eyes and spat. I've never confused a dream for reality once I've awoken. I can tell. I'm no fool. But lately it's been harder. My roommate is doing his mental exercises. He, against all odds, looks immaculately comfortable. Pristine, even. His tongue is out, pushed again the grainy rock, idly lapping up this place. He won't speak to me for a while.

I have a ritual to keep my senses sharp. To stay grounded when I have this little mobility. I have to do something to stay aware, to stay normal, to just stay. A routine. Dripping wet I hung and felt my bones ache. An unnatural slime oozed off the wall to my right. In front of me was an empty black. Beside me lay a man. There. It was done. It was all there. That was step one. I'm still here and I've assessed something. I'm in control. Next I flex. Start at the toes and work my way up. I move and stretch each portion as much as I can. I twitch my ears and my jaw. I move my head. There. It was done.

-------------------

I don't remember falling asleep.  That never happens.  I'm alone today.  What is going on? I don't have time to wonder.  About his release.  His life.  I only have myself now.  I'm all alone. Again. 

Turning inward I start to wander.  Down the pathways of my mind.  It's something.  It's important.  Maybe.  MAY BE. M A Y B E HE W A S RIIIIiiiiiigggghhhht.

I'm unlatched.  That's a start.  My surroundings are the same.  I don't want to walk into the black.  I don't want to touch the slime.  I can stay still.  In my stillness I focus on something small.  My hair is sensitive to the calm of the air.  Each morsel of skin is feeling a different temperature.  The nails on my fingers and toes are steadfast in their defense.  A vibration passes through me.  Once, head to toe.  Twice, toe to head.  Thrice, inward to outward.  tHe RoOm InVeRtS.  A warm breeze passes through me.  A strong heat beats me over the head as I stare into the oblivion in the horizon.  I could run for a hundred days and never reach it.  I don't run.  I don't do anything.  My eyes never open.  I imagine I'm in the maw of some great beast.  The heat is not the sun but the hot breath of a lummox.  The breeze is not from the ancient elemental but from the exhalation of a cavernous mouth space.  I could jump down the gullet and bethroat myself through it.  I don't move.  I don't do anything. 

-------------------

Finally my eyes open.  I'm awake again.

"Was that you or me?" The lowered man intoned at me.  That feeling grips me where you haven't talked in many hours and you are unsure if you can any longer.  Do I yet have a voice?  What will it sound like when it comes out? I wanted to cough to check but I dripped out a few words in my recognizable drawl.

"It was me.  But you helped."

He laughed.  I only could see the back of his head but I could tell he was smiling.  I smiled back.  Then we were both out.  He held my hand. Back in the meadow.  He looked at me.  He was beautiful.  Nothing at all like I had imagined. 

"Do you want to run? I like the idea of GOing FOrward."

"Me too," I said sheepishly.  He made me feel great.  We were happy here.  We took off at a full sprint at the same time.  Freedom.

Dripping wet I hung and felt my bones ache. An unnatural slime oozed off the wall to my right. In front of me was an empty black. Beside me lay a man.  There.  It was done.

We were no longer.

THERE