magnetic effect

they had tiles on the ceiling of the room. tiles that collectively resembled the blue outdoor sky, which was fine and dandy and soothing, except for the fact that half your body was under a gigantic magnet.

a gigantic magnet that kept on whrrr’ing.
and clicking.
and humming.

you’re lying under it, trying to hold your fucking left hand still, because you were told so, and you don’t know exactly what the consequences are if you actually moved it one nano-inch.

so you close your eyes and try to relax, only to find yourself drifting in and out of reality. you know the twilight zone you dwell on for a split second just before you drift off to sleep at night? the semi-dream-awake zone?

there I laid for what seemed like both an instant and eternity, with all kind of junk flashing through my mind.

I thought of golf, of how I would rework my swing and tear up the course when my wrist heals.

I thought of you, you of the past, you of the never was, you of the undefined. cats, emails, coffee, 8 27 66.

I thought of flying and living, travelling and spending, reading and writing.

I thought of munch’s “the vampire”, vermeer’s “lady writing a letter with her maid”, and robbing the louvre.

I thought of swimming with fishes, napping with dandan, laughing with you, eating by myself.

then I woke up, and an hour had passed.