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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2019042
Rated: 18+ · Draft · Experience · #2019042
I just let some experiences present themselves to me through writing.
      The day was just like any other day

Or maybe, it was like every other day.



    I would say that today is still yesterday, but I would rather KNOW that today is tomorrow.

I rolled out of where I had decided to pass out the time prior to being awake and crawled on all of half of

my all fours. I made it to the living room, which was as usual, lifeless or empty. I couldn't decide if it was

just dead or not too lively.



    My surroundings at this point where similar, if not exactly the same, to your typical, atypical household

gathering space. There was a television that played boundless distractions to either stimulate your upper brain, or even the lower one. This was basically a machine built to actually spend time on, as if it were some sort of currency. A couch or sink, depending on if you're drowning in it or not. The walls were currently splotchy with ambiguous shapes and images. Just grazing it up and down with my eyes yielded dinosaurs. A brontosaurus, to be hopefully exact. the depiction of Felix the cat, a show high up in my memory bank from when I was a child was right next to that. I saw a half-finished scene of geometric children putting their best effort into convincing their audience they weren't just shapes inside child-suits. I think maybe the wall had either gotten bored of this idea, or maybe something distracted it from finishing up it's work. The wood paneling on the floor was surprising as I remember expecting it to be. Natural, static, strong, capable of holding both me, and the all of gravity.

I walked or crawled, or floated to the front door which is odd, considering my orientation to it. It was behind me, pulling me out towards it, so I thought maybe it is more appropriate to call it the back door, or the behind door, or even, the front door behind the back door.



    Outside was an absolute contrast to the dull, full of emptinessness supposed abode I was just previously inside of. It was every color in the rainbow. Every color I can imagine, think of, or remember was contained in this three-dimensional cube of non-peripheral vision. The trees were green. The sky was blue. The clouds were every shade of gray to white. Dogs, dragons, and fish were all walking in uniformity across the sky. One by one by one by one until they were too obscure or far away to see. The road was wet, covered in I think days old water. The grass was also green. A bolder green. Traces of yellow. The aroma was musky, sticky to the nose. To the touch, it was fluffy, harsh, hot with a bit of a sting. The blades of grass were sharp on their way into the center of the whole and very soon they penetrated my most protected layer of my inner brain.

I allowed more blades to slice deeper and deeper, and quicker and quicker I could feel the Little Mood Dood in I start to grow wings and

                                                              H.

                                                          G

                                                      I

                                                H



                                        Y

                                  L

                              F



    Suddenly my crawl evolved into a more suited variation of a slight hover. My feet were firmly touching the ground below me, but even that atom sized space between my feet and floor was probably around 2 feet higher than it should have been. I used my new means of traversing to enjoy the flowers a bit more than a few minutes ago. Looking at their beautiful yellow pedals, their long strong stalks. Listening to the winds and their talks of Seagull flocks that like mock the growls of alligators and the squawks of crocks. My vision was slightly smaller, as if the top and bottoms of my upper and lower eyelids were trying to hug or kiss. My hover was slightly slowed and in a stupor, following a pre-laid out path. Pink in color, wispy like a strung out ghost. My drive was a wheel winding the wisp into me and out through me bringing me closer and closer to this further destination. Like rewinding that tape, I was back inside. This time it was a bit more filled out. Shapely, curvy, voluptuous. Easy on the eyes. The kind of room you would take home to your mother. The two rooms were fraternal twins, and their tails trailed on to the table which upon held a label, or sticker, or stamp, or map, or a book, or key, or a different book, or a college professor shaped like a square, or a box, or a cube.

The black holes in my head focused their sights onto this infinite symbol with the words "Get it?" written in the code of the source matter. I picked it up and found hidden inside either myself, or this object a series of instructions for use. I placed this into my sub-bucal-marine, which was the space between my lower gum and lips.



    Time at this point became all but  the most apparent parents in the room providing supervision and all eyes are on you. The space inside me became closer. Tighter. More influencing. My roads tightened up turning from two-lanes into one-lane. Driving essential nutrients like blood was becoming a difficult task to ignore the complications of. My hover morphed the ground below me into spikes and needles, hindering my mobility. I was being poisoned by something or someone. Somehow, I stepped on enough thorny vines to arrive at a couch a bit different than my own. It was not as comfortable as mine, or relaxing as mine. There wasn't any sinking into this one. My body rested awkwardly skimming the surface.



    I thought it to be many many years later and I was just frozen in the moment. That was not the case. It had been about half of whatever an hour is becoming later. Something is not quite right about all of this. The blades of grass whispered to my ears and reassured me that all will come to be as it is. That was enough to negate the absolute alarm of everything in my vision to become more confusing. I could feel my head growing bigger, or maybe my brain was becoming larger, The fog was fading and I started to see my environment with a pair of finely tuned spectacles. My hands produced amazing clones which were more than happy to trail a bit behind the one before it.

   

  Amazing.



  I was being driven, now, by a scholarly student wizard. His eyes were quite a show. The patterns of grass patches drew me into them ever expanding inward symmetry. They waved with a smile, happy to acknowledge my acknowledgment of them. I waved back. My feet must have become tongues because every step felt juicier than the one before it. I became a walking wide open mouth. Fountains were seemingly pouring out of every pore in my body. I heard a voice both in the distance, and distinctly close to me. It echoed, beckoned, battled with the other voices of teachers and lessons audible from the flying laughing lips or the Aztec wall painters sharing their intricate hieroglyphic masterpieces with all surfaces around me. Even the band in the background wanted to compete for most likely to be heard in a crowd of strangers. The music playing was familiar. An electronic song. The band members were digital. Each member a note traveling to me. The sound of each of them was what i expected, but the later ones must have had a furnace or kiln inside of them because they were melting away. One by one. The melody was becoming a juxtaposed hodge-podge of sounds melting into a crucible of sinister sounding symbols. I both considered each of them, and didn't' consider each of them. Energy flowed though me, becoming and encompassing my actions and intentions.

   

    The voice was telling me that everything around me is both there and not there. I only need to look at what I'm seeing to be able to see what is there. It circled me in logic and circumstance.  I asked what I had taken, it asked me what has been given? I shared with it the lightheadedness that doesn't come from a blood-pressure related event, but more like when someone cuts out a hole in the top of your head and drops a jack-o-lantern candle down into it, illuminating everything. The voice became color. Any color. All color. It was redder than the reddest strawberry, Bluer than the bluest sky on its clearest day. If i flipped a switch, the colors would become more layered either inside or outside. Details became acute and more legible. The colors formed a wolf. This wolf was a sight to behind, as everything else at this point had been so far. The wolf had asked me to excuse it so it could re-nourish itself.  I knew werewolves to change in the presence of the full moon, had i become a full moon to these colors?



    I turned my head to a serene, dreamlike scene of this gray haired, white tipped wolf lapping up Purple to pink flavored water. The hairs weren't standing on end, they were actually starting and ending at both the beginning and the end. There was no fixed point where I could pinpointing where the motion was coming from, but it was electric. Coursing through the entire animal. It shot out of the wolf and became all of the ingredients needed to assemble a projector. The movie was a short one of me walking across the mountain scape and through a box to a bed. I got in by best criss crossed sitting stance and out of the sky bobbed down a plain red balloon. The balloon laughed jovially with me. We shared funny stories. Sarcastic ones. Then the balloon did something I knew was of high importance. The balloon filled me up. Exhaling itself into my being. For quite some chunk of the present, I had been in total understanding with the abstractness of the curtain and behind the curtain. I had felt the gears moving and saw the building frame work book of everything outside of me. What this had been, however, was an inward expansion.



    I now know that this plain balloon was housing something incredibly vast and not confined to any outlined space or plane. fuzzy green and pink dots sped into a climax at the center of everything. The sounds bellowing out of this tunnel were divine. Angelic symphonies could not even touch the depth and awe-inspiring density of these miraculous notes. They penetrated all layers and touched my soul. I had become at peace in a small garden surrounded by the cage of my skin. My cage opened up to a sky filled with dots and lines all inter-connecting. Everything inter-was. I inter-am now. These flashing feelings of Godliness passed through me like specters. I had become everything. I could see farther and farther into the further. Speech was foreign and distorted. Outlines were outlined in outlines. My mind was now in a room with itself unaware that it is playing a practical joke on itself. Each word funnier and funnier than the one before it.

    I think the joke wasn't that it was a joke itself, but that the joke is that this isn't a joke and I'm laughing at this revelation! The body I am using to laugh is now not my own. It is every body that itself was also and is also a body. My mind is your mind is my mind. This sequence goes deeper and deeper until I figure there is a fixed point where everything eventually touches. Is that 'GOD'? My vision becomes waves of repeating patters colored across a hex chart of color combinations. These patterns extend from the center of my 'SELF' outward, becoming everything that both is, and isn't me. Synesthesia. Vision is tactile and even that is put to a cerebral song of popping noises and bubbly bliss. I told myself that this is the secret. The light. The end of the tunnel, that final point. The finality of the film. The climax of the chorus.





    It was not.





    I couldn't ever reach that light. No matter how much I wanted to or tried. Every pull and push towards it made the tunnel longer, wider, and that light just a little bit more out of my arm's length. This God energy inside of me in this projection in I would guess a dream slowly left me. It had used my body to trampoline my existence into hyper space levels in an attempt to communicate with me through me. Or maybe it hadn't actually been anything but my dream self's dreamlike imagination manifesting into a surreal hallucination.



    Behind that projection was a parallel scene not absolutely unlike what I had just saw myself experiencing. Instead of my insides racing higher and higher through the barriers of perception into the cloudscape in the sky, It had appeared and felt as though I was sinking backwards or downwards into a hole. This hole was not like the simple holes where there is just dirt missing, or material missing, this hole had been almost like a vacuum where the hose was inhaling from both beneath me, and inside me. Deeper and deeper I was sinking into this pool of abstraction. The edges of squares slowly disappeared and became holographic pyramids.



    The distant observers were incredibly juxtaposed together. Faces were no longer faces, they were a seemingly random yet familiar assembly of eyes, lips, and nostrils. Weight was lost on those with it. Shoulders stretched. Arms grew and shrunk depending on my opinion of them. My ears were like a numb record player, graining up the notes and spitting them out inside of me. They reverberated and bounced inside of me like sensual jumping beans. Water had leaked and pooled out of my soul portals. The coldness shaped them into icicles which darted down through the earth and disappeared into a peripheral void. Noses doubled. Mouths doubled. Mouths doubled. The others grew stranger and stranger to me. Far too big to be in a room this small, far too small to be noticed in a room this big. Was I in a room?



    I was.



    I am.

    From what I can tell, at least. I had a certain attachment to this place this hole is taking me. Problems or cares just bounced off of the bubble I became. Walking my path was pointless. It had become pointless to move on from this space of bliss. The world became dark, or maybe my eyelids had shut. I soon forgot what eyelids were or that i had them, I was a subject and my object was the creative energy in thought form presenting itself to me. I had down and opened my center and let the thoughts enter me. Beautiful detailed images and combinations of different concepts and ideas flowed carefully and without remorse. Cartoon characters were sailing on top of oceans of chairs and backpacks quickly before becoming cyan shaped birds dropping pine apple sized baby sharks into the careful arms of a student in a cardboard dioramma classroom where all of his peers were listening diligently to the gorilla sized chicken at the head of the classroom wearing the perfectly represented mask of a former teacher I never knew. This all was balled up and tossed into a trashcan placed in an empty field. In the sky the seagulls coughed up their brothers and sisters like grenades which repeated this until the entire sky became a membrane of seagull sisters and bird brothers. The membrane came from the highest point above and slowly danced closer and closer to me. Inviting me to become part of it's warming embrace.



    I did.



    It was the biggest king-sized bed with the softest pillows beneath my heavy head. In my dreams, I sympathized with the empty emotions I was feeling from the nostalgic vibes that introduced themselves to me. I hadn't seen them or heard of them before, but I definitely had felt from them all too many times. Maybe in my past we were good friends? I wanted to see them deeper than the surface they showed me so I grabbed the pair of boggle goggles placed at the feet of my bed. With them I saw fundamental sadness wearing an outfit that consisted of hedonistic pleasure and hollow happiness. This should have unnerved me, but instead, it pulled me in closer, hugging me tighter, caressing me more tenderly. It whispered in my ears that if you do not feel sadness, then it is not there. I believed her at first, but then I surprisingly remembered the time I set sail on the cloud sea and left my baggage behind. The baggage was still there, even if I just wasn't touching it. This is what I came to see when I looked into her empty fabricated smile. It was all a trap. I knew i couldn't stay here much longer. She wasn't helping me, I was helping her. I gave and got nothing while being promised everything. The balance was lost here.



    I grabbed a rope of time and pulled myself out of the hole using the braided hours. Up and up and up through to whatever perceived reality had in store for me. Going up seemed to take me deeper into the present. Luckily it is a gift I don't mind unwrapping.



To be continued on



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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2019042