There are moments when I feel strange, like I'm in a different place. One of those moments is when the house is dark, the lights are off, and the light from the streetlamp is coming through the window-blinds. At night when I come home and the room is dark, and the blinds are open, I feel strange. I feel like something's wrong. Something's missing. Something is watching me that I can't see. Brings to mind dark and eerie visions like those of Stephen King novels.
It brings me visions like rain coming down on mountains covered in dark green trees. Like how the waves crash on rocky shores during a wind-storm. Like standing in the middle of the woods during an airless, crisp winter night--so cold there is no moisture in the air and your breath that fogs in front of your face is so dense you are standing within a cloud of your own creation.
It's hard to put a finger on it, why this special moment in time makes me feel so strange, or even why I happen to find this moment special. Could be the possible onset of madness. It could be that the slatted yellow light coming into my living room reminds me of a strange memory, one made during a time of confusion.
This makes it harder still to pinpoint exactly why that light makes me feel this way. There were plenty of times in my life where I have been confused, afraid, misplaced. Plenty of times where I didn't know where I was going, and couldn't remember where I had been. It strikes a chord within in me, tickles my brain, like I'm trying to remember something, but the memory was never there.
No comments:
Post a Comment