I have these odd moments throughout the day.
Specific flashes of disassociation in which I am momentarily transported across time and space to some quaint corner of the world inspired by distant memories of something I maybe saw on vacation once and thought I forgot.
These sort of generic, liminal space worlds that reach far enough back in time to make everything all fuzzy and uncertain around the edges. Fuzzy and uncertain was a more interesting time. I think my brain does it to me in order to help me cope with an adulthood’s awareness of modernity. Not a lot of mystery left. At least on the list of things that drew my interest. Went too hard at satisfying my own curiosity. Forgot to save a few for retirement.
So instead I’m pulled suddenly into a hammock on my cousin Teresa’s horse farm out in Bliss, gazing up at the leaves and the blue sky- waiting in agony for the breeze to return. Hot. Stagnant. And then it does- falling gently from the highest leaves down and gracing my cheeks and the grass beneath me in a long, sweet, cool embrace on a bored and endless afternoon in the shade of the sun, and the din of my family in the old farmhouse just behind me.
Then suddenly I’m smelling new thick carpet in 1995 in a small room with a single smoky window up high, a cloth couch, and an oscillating fan. I lay on the couch, my brain fried to fever levels, unable to do much of anything except wait for the fan to swing back my way to cool my cheeks and ruffle my hair as I purr in brief pleasure. I can hear the fan. And I can feel it moving through the thick dream air- moving that air on me. Nothing else, really. Fuzzy around the edges.
And then I’m back to sitting in traffic. The light turns green.
Loading comments...