You know that space between waking and dreaming where your body twitches, your eyelids flutter and your breathing switches from rapid to deep and back again on a loop? That is when my mind lets me view forgotten memories, like a ghost floating from the walls of my consciousness, into settings of times past.
A darkened room i lay in, with sunlight filtering through the curtain, my fingers trailing skin that had warmed me, all those long cold nights.
The patio of a cousins home in our island where once we sat, cradling seashells in our hands.
Classrooms that I walked to and from that echoed with excited laughter and innocence lost.
Walking through the graveyard, lingering where my great grandmother rested, watching rain drip down her tombstone and seep into the ground where she lay, I hoped, in peaceful repose. I was often told that I was her little doppelganger.
Bright lights that flickered above me while I lay cowering in pain on an unyielding hospital bed.
A bloody sunset that draped us in amber while we ran in unrestrained delight on a beach, chasing translucent little crabs into the waves.
These moments that still dwell in my subconscious mind, despite their insignificance, they flare up when my body falls into that state. And I am reminded of who I was and what it felt like to be me, right then and there. Those memories, they melt and dissolve into one another. Some, coherent strings of thought, while others are flashes of light, speech and faces.
I am mostly aware of it when it happens and i let it flood me, though there are moments when a part of me gropes around for a hold on reality. But still, i am at peace when i'm in that state, where I am neither awake nor asleep but simply suspended in an undemanding void that coccoons me.
I welcome it everytime.
1 comment:
And with such modesty she waited for it: the poignancy of something good.
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