Ring of Mushrooms

19

The mind can be an empty space. It's like floating in a pool, sinking deep into its depths. Maybe it should be described as an ocean, nothingness for hundreds of feet in all directions. Well this was worse than that. You were alone feeling nothing, preserving nothing, yet if felt like you were being spoken to, as if you could hear something while nothing was round for miles.

So you sunk deeper and deeper. Perhaps it was better to rest and wait, to see what passes by until you figure it out. There was no rush, nothing to worry about now. For this feeling of being in the ocean, it was warm and almost comfortable. The feeling of missing something weighed you down and made you turn with anxiety yet there was some feeling of comfort on your chest.

You were comfortable, surrounded by emptiness, holding something warm and comforting close to your heart. Even the feeling of something being wrong didn't ruin you. It was like scents would pass by, gently brushing through the water around you. Sometimes it felt like it reached for you, and held you close, before fading away again. Perhaps you should have been scared but this period of rest was gentle.

When you opened your eyes, the empty feeling kept you laying there as you gazed through a blur and looked up at a canopy of plants. It reminded you of something, if someone but for now it didn't matter, you couldn't move anyways so you let yourself see the water again.

Soon the warmth that you held close vanished, it stayed nearby but it no longer rested in your arms. You couldn't hold it close any longer. It caused you to worry for the first time in that ocean. You felt like looking for it. Following it through the water, through the dark until you found it again.

You looked out into the brightness, through the blurr. You saw there that warm feeling keeping you calm as you sunk again, you still felt warm and safe. Soon the water cooled and you didn't feel like you belonged there. It felt like hours but something told you that wasn't right. You could swear that the whispering was real, no longer your thoughts passing by. You grew more aware of it, the scents that passed by. They kissed your cheeks before cradling the warmth that had comforted you for so long. Why did those scents make you feel so lonely when they left?

You tried to find them but when you looked out through the blur there was nothing you could truly find. You wondered why you were looking, the ocean felt so calm. Perhaps you should stay in the dark depths. But it was so lonely, you felt alone, and the scents that visited always left you. You didn't want to be alone anymore. You knew that you were missing something, you knew something was gone but what was it? What was missing? What could you have forgotten? It had to be important, you knew it was something you needed? So why? Why couldn't you remember what it was? Why were you alone?

You felt a slight tug, something made you feel like you needed to see through the blur again. It was so bright, so fuzzy. It burned to look at it. It hurt to see what you were looking for, what you knew you needed to search for. You need to look through the blur, into the bright.

It took a long while and soon you stopped visiting the deep. You weren't surrounded by the dark and in the stomach of the water. You sat there slipping between awareness and a dream. You couldn't understand the dream and it felt more like you closed your eyes and an unknowing amount of time passed before you opened them again. The blur faded and you stared up at the ceiling.

White light, bright plants floral smells hovering around you. Yet it slipped away when you tried to reach up towards the vines that decorated it. Were you that tired?

You sat up after seeing it again. You were sure you sat up but that ceiling stared at you again and again. You know you sat up, you knew that you were moving, you were sure you were. So why were you stuck seeing those vines? Why did the image never change?

You kept trying to force it, soon catching a glimpse at the world by your feet. Then the ceiling. That damn ceiling, that same white glass, blotched with a lilac and covered by vines. They dangled in front of you. What was wrong? Why did you always end up staring at the same damn thing? Why did it never change?

You gasped at the fabric around you. You gasped trying to scream before you looked up at the ceiling again. You reached out grasping at air, clawing for something solid before it all reset. You heaved, wide eyes, your mouth hung open as you struggled to figure out what was wrong.

You tumbled to the side. Falling. You know that's what you felt. You were positive. It had to be you falling, falling and falling but you'd always fall into looking at that damn ceiling in the same fucking spot. What was wrong.

A thousand times later you breathed shakily as you gazed across the floor at marble. Polished to a shine. Then the ceiling again. Something was changing. Not with the room, never with the room, but you could tell that it was with you.

Then you fumbled forwards. Tumbling against the floor, some pot lying with you staining the white clothes, sticking to your skin. You were sure, that dusty texture of having something on your skin. You knew you felt it, you were sure it was real and that you weren't faking it. Yet you saw the ceiling all the same and screamed as you sat up.

Again you sat up. Reaching forwards, pouncing towards something you knew you needed but couldn't remember what. Nothing was in front of you, nothing knew it was just nothing. You sobbed screaming as something warm pulled you down into their arms. Their hands caressed your head, your back. You clung to the mulberry scented cloth.

"Breath, stay calm, you have to or it won't get better."

The ceiling again, your chest rose and sunk, you stared at the ceiling. You just stared, you made no noise, no movement. You didn't even blink until the last moment possible. You never attempted to move until you felt normal. Until you could pretend that you weren't horrified.

Then you sat up looking around. You weren't greeted with the damn ceiling again. You looked around. Realizing what you were missing. Realizing what you had desperately been searching for.

Where was your son?