UNTITLED (437 words)
I don’t know where I am.
No, really, I don’t.
You’ll think I’m kidding when I tell you about this later and we’ll probably have a good laugh about it, but don’t be surprised if it takes more than one bottle of wine for me to get over today’s little episode. This whole thing at Moira’s Mystical Meditation is freaking me out, not least of all Moira herself who was a bit more… intense… than I expected. She started me off with some quiet reflective time, contemplating the coloured shapes behind my eyelids. You know what I’m like with that sort of thing – I can’t focus for more than two seconds, and somehow I ended up here. Well, it threw me, didn’t it? To find out that the only colour behind my eyelids was grey and I was looking into shadows.
I mean, grey’s not a real colour, is it?
And now I’m standing with my toes curled round the edge of something (God knows where my shoes went – I wasn’t barefoot when I left the house) and it’s strange, but I can feel a tug somewhere in my spine.
I lift my arm to stop myself from falling forward and my hand penetrates this cold, nothing-type void in front of me.
You know, for a second, I thought it looked black, only it’s not. It’s blue. Shot through with pinpricks of silver. Vibrant. Energising. Oh, this is too weird! Extreme tingling. Like Space Dust, but on my skin instead of my tongue. Not pain exactly, although it makes me want to cry out.
So… this is awkward. My left arm is gone. Nibbled by the nothingness.
I press my other hand forward and watch as the cells of my forearm peel away from the rest of me like tiny shards of crystal quartz spiralling upwards into the blue. I try to follow with my eyes, but the shards spin and swirl and lose themselves in the multitude.
I think I’m crying, although obviously I can’t wipe my tears away because I don’t have any hands. Whoa! This is such a strange sensation. Do you suppose Moira put something in that herbal tea she gave me? She might have had the decency to warn me – there’s no way I can drive home in this state.
I think I’m unravelling. My toes are gone. Ankles, too. When the rest of me goes, I hope she calls you to let you know where I am. Good thing I gave her your number. I’ll be here. Waiting. Swirling.
Although all this swirling is making me feel sick.