Encompassing Eons…

Somewhere between lying down last night, and the alarm going off this morning, a truck came through the bedroom and ran me the fuck over. I should have been out on the piss. At least then there’d be a justifiable reason for feeling like I’ve been cast in lead. I am beginning to give credence to the notion that the body will demand you catch up on lost sleep eventually, even if it was months ago that you misplaced it…

Brain function is like a guttering candle flame, easily extinguishable. The way I’m feeling, it would be a blessing if somebody came and blew me out. The clutter on my desk has blended into a mess of colour, a blur from which stands out a fountain pen, a stained knife, and a rubber stamp that reads FUCK OFF. The screen before me is indistinct, unfocused. Perspective is skewed. It could be inches from my face or on the far side of the room, and who can tell the fucking difference? The drone of banal conversation fills the air, like the buzz of insects over summer grass, the breeze replaced by the hum of air-conditioning, the whir of the photocopier. It’s the modern fucking meadow, the quiet clearing amid the forest of steel and stone, bathed in fluorescent sunlight.

The gentle dozing, the half-sleep of ennui is broken by the harsh call of a telephone. I go through the motions, mouth bleeding out some incogitant drivel, subconscious regurgitating answers to the inanities of the legislative process, already retreating to the comfort of staring into space.

Like the clichéd world of childhood summers, endless afternoons spent lying in the grass, staring at the sun through closed eyelids, this place is extemporal; each heavy thud of the second hand encompassing eons: glaciers retreating; sea levels rising; clouds massing to block out the heavens; the darkened world freezing over; species evolve; extinction events rain down ruin upon the world; galaxies expand; planets collide; distant stars supernova…

There’s a multiplicity of coexistent cranial states it seems. Questions are met with a languid, heavy-lidded stare, mouth agape, slack-lipped. I am on the verge of drooling. And yet, I have just watched, passing before my sightless eyes, a universe take form, expand, and dwindle into nothing. There is clearly something going on in there. But nevertheless I sink back below the surface, the leaden waters of sleep closing inexorably over my head…

And then Director’s hand clamps down upon my shoulder.

“You alright there Gethin?”

“What? Um, yeah, fine mate…”

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~ by Gethin A. Lynes on January 18th, 2012.

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