I need something more.
Lights, bright, flashing, people, smells, song, fruit, leaf, apple, no, not. Can’t. Lights flashing, twirling, walls and ceiling and wood and floor all into one, openness, emptiness, oneness, connection. An open horizon. Something new, something, fresh. Something stale and dull. As if the universe was being created before me, bursts of blindness and bright light piercing straight through me, pain. Exploding, recreating, renewing, from the blackness and emptiness, a horizon was created. Years, years, millions of years. Imploding into my head. Falling, flying? Fast.
Reaching out. More.
A lone observer. A thin film of glass blocking me the rest of the world. Watching, only watching. Can’t touch. Separate. Without a body, without an identity, nothing. No human, no one. Floating, everywhere, disconnected, watching, observing, confused, different. Lonely.
Drifting in one place. A golden sea. Invisible sun reflecting off, sparkling. Underneath the surface, a shape, me, as the waves move past, pushing me slowly, moving gently up and down and side to side, like a feather being pushed in the wind. No mind. No thoughts. Peace. Only looking. Looking up at the surface above, yellow light reflecting, streaming, reaching for me, loving me, peace. The sea was my mother, and my life had not yet begun, floating peacefully, not separate, together, all connected, one, loved. No worries, no thoughts. Just being. Just together, Unconditional. No matter what. Warm, no temperature, never cold, the surface above. Gently moving in a pattern. A universe of beauty.
Everything, colors, blobs of color, shapeless masses that drifted around the ocean hovering around me in a circle, stretching out, breaking apart, multiplying, coming closer to me. All at once, shooting into me, heavy impact, no struggle, forcing itself to take over me, become me. The shapeless colors sloshed and bumped around inside of me, shaking, contorting me, bending and breaking me. Energy shot through me, flying fast, breaking the surface, the golden ocean growing smaller and smaller, reaching out, fighting myself, trembling, take me back, disappear.
I had a shape now. A body. Consciousness hit me nauseatingly. Eyesight blurry, shaking. Feeling nothing, empty. Help. In the very bottom of my stomach I felt lost. Eyesight connected, seeing clearly. My feet. A tile floor beneath me.
Looking up, gathering my senses, bouncing off every object, ricocheting and coming back to me with information, a loyal servant. I was in a kitchen. It was rather dirty, the tile floor white, the walls also white, tinged with mildew and moss. Plain cabinets, a plain white counter- a sink. The faucet stretched downward, as if bending over curiously, to see what was in the sink. If this is true, the faucet must be very unhappy with what it sees- it weeps gently. Every so often, drip drop, you never know when it will come next. Hours go by. I lean over into the sink to see what the faucet is so upset about. Broken dishes. Piles and piles of dirtied, cracked and shattered dishes.
There was nothing else in the house. It was a very small house. Sliding my hand across the door, further downward, further, grasping a door knob, slowly turning, turning, open.
My body was just a form made up to complete functions needed in the world around me, in my mind only sight. Taking in.
Identity? What a strange word. A good person a bad person, a nice person, a selfish person, a social person, a quiet person, a lazy person, a hardworking person, logic, feelings, stupid, smart. Just a mind. No outside world to tell me who I am, just an empty shell. Floating, barely alive.
My feet move up and step onto the grass outside. My head robotically moving upward to take in my surroundings. My eyes doing their job.
A flat, long stretch of grass, moving straight, in all directions, forever. Just grass and grass, all the same length, expanding onward into the horizon. Leveled out, horizontal, all identical. Grass. Flat Grass forever. The world was empty.
