A Union of Trees: An Immortal Effect Series Special

Chapter I/ Unpopular Perception

I breathed nothing, and I saw nothing, but this was not to say that I did not feel anything. What I felt was a simple sensation of being. Though there was nothing present at this time for me to acknowledge, I could at least fathom the idea that I was conscious of myself, or at least, this was my belief in this moment.

It appeared that, in this occurrence, time itself was irrelevant. Seamlessly, moments that all gave the impression that they bore relation to one another were making themselves current. Respective of their own occurrence, I experienced these events ubiquitously, perfectly playing out within what seemed to be entire lifetimes that somehow, even beyond their massive separations of time and distance, appeared to derive from specific sequences.

These sequences hinted to me the idea that in which the events of many different lifetimes all appeared to be bound and woven together to explain something or possibly to express a feeling. These existences and all that was presented to me made me feel as though the lives themselves were connected to me in such a way that I began to feel as though I was existing through them. In further observance, I could see that, in this instance, there wasn't anything present in which I could truly feel, but I was not numbed or stripped of sensation altogether.

I didn't smell anything, or taste anything and there didn't seem to be anything here beyond everlasting dark. Still, with these things in mind, perhaps this is all I was meant to see, but I couldn't accept that I had these experiences by way of chance alone. What I could accept here was that I did exist, even though I had no idea of where or what this place was that I currently found myself existing in. There had only been darkness here. If there was something more to take in beyond this emptiness and darkness that so closely mirrored the void of space, I wasn't sure whether or not I'd actually see it. I wasn't sure if this had just been my mind, or if I was brought to this sensation, or to this place for that matter, against my will, but nothing about my presence here seemed natural. My recognition of being alone seemed to be a concept of which I felt strangely about; engulfing me in a feeling that I immediately perceived as a sense of forbidding, as though I'd witnessed something I shouldn't have. This sensation, to me, was only familiar as I had begun to react to this, much like another instance, where this too, was my feeling in response similarly.

I had come to recognize that in this particular recollection of events, I was a son and also a sibling in a family, and that this scene playing back to me had given me an image of who my mother was, and more importantly to me, who I was. It was with this recollection that more began to feel, or become apparent to me as the forbidding sense of this remembrance where I made the mistake of walking into our bathroom without knocking resulted in this unpleasant experience in response to the sensation I had. I could remember the way I felt when I had gone through the door and my mothers enraged voice immediately responded, scolding me for barging in without knocking and instilling a distinct, unwelcoming sensation. I had promptly thought at that time of how I realized that walking in without knocking first was wrong, and that I had instantly regretted not doing it. In this moment, all I could think about was how I could ensure to myself never to repeat that mistake, and to avoid feeling how I felt ever again. This however, was something that only became apparent to me now at this time, realizing this may have unknowingly been applied to my decision-making thought processes and to just about everything else I did, and still I had little idea of who I was. What I did know was that the information and experiences that I accepted myself, for myself, and of myself was information I recalled, but I could not be certain of whether this pertained to who I truly was, or if it simply pertained to the individual who I believed to be me.

I found myself searching for certainty in everything that I did, and in everything that I said when I thought about the person I believed I was currently. Soon I could almost envision myself, feeling that I've also intercepted myself in this particular circumstance as I remember that feeling of always wanting to feel like whatever I said or did beyond that point would not yield painful consequences, and that what I say should be logical and sensible. But, here, I couldn't understand if this was relevant to me, or if it had only pertained to my reminiscence of who I believed myself to be. Furthermore, I wasn't sure that anything that I did or even thought here was relevant at all. This was far from any experience of existing that I bound myself to recalling, but wherever this was, had reignited that sensation that I'd done something wrong and that I was not meant to be here. The sensation continued to swell until I felt like it was all I could perceive, a feeling akin to what I could only describe as drowning in a fear that didn't answer its own invoking. In addition to this constant, looming feeling of dread and cowardice, it was then that something else happened, and it was as though someone spoke to me, acknowledging my fears. Soon it was clear that there was a voice present. However, the voice that I heard was soft-spoken and slightly deep. There was a specific way about how the voice spoke that allured to the idea that this voice belonged to a man, and that he meant well. I felt as though it was the voice of someone dear to me without any reason for myself to truly believe it. The things he said were nearly inaudible and cryptic and came to me as the voice of someone desperate. I couldn't hear him as he continued to speak to me, but the manner in which he spoke made me think that he wanted to keep me alert. He spoke in small, pausing waves, continuing on with replies as if in response to someone else, but I never heard their response. The direction of his words almost seemed as though they were meant for me to answer, but I also could not avoid the feeling that I was simply an audience to this conversation.