jsm
02-21-2009, 07:44 PM
Mundane
Leonard Pritchard awoke in painfully familiar surroundings. Dreading the day ahead he rolled over. Then, entering a state somewhere between consciousness and dreaming, he experienced temporary relief from his poor expectations for Saturday 21st February.
Comforting thoughts from the night before like...seize tomorrow and…avoid over-thinking at all costs...had long since lost their meaning. These could be attributed to a fleeting period of inspiration with no real bearing in reality.
Eventually, in a moment of decisive action, Leonard hauled himself out of bed and hovered clumsily in the room that was not his own. Something orange and arachnid appeared in his peripheral vision. It remained there for a couple of seconds, scurried across the carpet and disappeared from view. He knew it qualified as 'hallucination', but having to make this distinction did not appeal to him.
Heaving open the heavy door, he stumbled into the corridor. His surroundings flickered in electric blue, under the dim glow of five blinking strip lights.
Hit first and hit hard…what? A thought had flashed into Leonard’s head – but something was wrong. Yes it was him who’d experienced the thought, but the idea itself…hit first and hit hard…was not his own. Unlike the creeping spider, this disturbed him.
More thoughts plagued his mind as he trod awkwardly towards the community kitchen. However, these were decisively his own. The content was far more mundane and comforting
…just relax…
…one step at a time…
Looking through the kitchen window, he noticed it was snowing heavily outside. But something else was wrong. Where was everyone else? And more importantly, if that fragment of inner dialogue just moments before, was not his own, then whose was it? It had come from his own head. So. Leonard pondered. If that’s not me. Then who am I?
Leonard Pritchard awoke in painfully familiar surroundings. Dreading the day ahead he rolled over. Then, entering a state somewhere between consciousness and dreaming, he experienced temporary relief from his poor expectations for Saturday 21st February.
Comforting thoughts from the night before like...seize tomorrow and…avoid over-thinking at all costs...had long since lost their meaning. These could be attributed to a fleeting period of inspiration with no real bearing in reality.
Eventually, in a moment of decisive action, Leonard hauled himself out of bed and hovered clumsily in the room that was not his own. Something orange and arachnid appeared in his peripheral vision. It remained there for a couple of seconds, scurried across the carpet and disappeared from view. He knew it qualified as 'hallucination', but having to make this distinction did not appeal to him.
Heaving open the heavy door, he stumbled into the corridor. His surroundings flickered in electric blue, under the dim glow of five blinking strip lights.
Hit first and hit hard…what? A thought had flashed into Leonard’s head – but something was wrong. Yes it was him who’d experienced the thought, but the idea itself…hit first and hit hard…was not his own. Unlike the creeping spider, this disturbed him.
More thoughts plagued his mind as he trod awkwardly towards the community kitchen. However, these were decisively his own. The content was far more mundane and comforting
…just relax…
…one step at a time…
Looking through the kitchen window, he noticed it was snowing heavily outside. But something else was wrong. Where was everyone else? And more importantly, if that fragment of inner dialogue just moments before, was not his own, then whose was it? It had come from his own head. So. Leonard pondered. If that’s not me. Then who am I?