Careful, mind your footing
My head is spinning, the space filled with black and white. Zooming through space with fiery white stars shooting past my face, warm (almost too warm), grazing my cheeks and the tips of my ears. I feel my chest expand and compress as I lazily float through the impossibly dim vacuum.
If only I could soar effortlessly like this through a day and not simultaneously trip down 17 tunnels of erratic thoughts and inappropriate feelings, where a jungle of words whip and swirl in my mind from any given character plotline that is afforded to me that day.
If only I could give a receptionist the task of organizing files of thoughts, well she might cry in horror at the very mere sight of the room filled with overflowing manilla folders, coloured every hue of the rainbow, and then some. The folders vomiting out photos and loud noise, tiny pieces of paper with eccentric notes – some written boldly, others typed neatly, but each letting the others know they are more important than the last.
I fear I could lose my sensibilities if the four different personalities take me hostage, all in a bid to win the right drive this bus. Of course they would divert from the intended course and take a backstreet or worse; take the wrong direction altogether. Flying through traffic, weaving through a flurry of twitching headlights, bleeting horns and panicked drivers with their equally as panicked passengers, all waving their hands furiously at me and yelling for me to pull over. “Get off the road” they scream. In horror? In anger? But it isn’t just their road and it isn’t for them to tell me that I’m the one driving in the wrong direction. Not when there is plenty of room on the road for the rest of us.
Everything goes black.
“Be grateful and take it slow today” I tell myself, rising from my bed.
“Resetting can be a minefield and you would do well to mind your footing.”