A Little Death

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Non-Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: March 27, 2017

A A A | A A A

Submitted: March 27, 2017



The young man enters a room and knows he’s been there before. But he can’t be sure if it was in a dream. His life seems to take ridiculously small proportions, to be constricted in time, a block of years among thousands. Something inside him, maybe his consciousness, doesn’t identify with this body, these experiences, that sense of self in particular. Overtaken by the sudden realization that this life was just a page in a book, that the picture was much bigger than he ever could’ve imagined… There’s a voice inside speaking to him.

His thoughts toss and turn their way to darker pastures and half-dreamish shocking realizations. Maybe just maybe love doesn’t exist and we’re all behaviourally engineered to get attached to another. His conscious self isn’t awake enough to retort with the usual barrage of denial. There’s ashes of his previous conception of reality falling here and there around his body.

“It is a misconception that everybody’s special. You’ve fallen prey to the cognitive bias that you were naturally talented.” And so on and so forth. It feels like free falling through multiple glass floors.

The mundane now has an underlying scary quality. Unexplainably disturbing, uncanny, but also with a tint of absurd humor. When someone is talking and you can’t help but seeing the monkey behind the human face instead of listening. When the pale late morning light comes through the window and sets off a sadness that you feel deep in your stomach like hunger.

But then… it’s enlightening, liberating. Everything that once mattered lost its static seriousness. Slowly he’s wrapping his head around the reality that everything changes; nothing dies or is born. He was once something else and will live on forever in a multiplicity of forms and beings that all share the same inner core.

And the man just realized that what he knows as “himself” is that inner core. The truest part of him, not the part that knows but the watcher in the back that knows that he knows. Ad infinitum. The more he steps back from his own ego, the more he realizes that he could keep on stepping back forever, that he’ll never fall over into the abyss.

But then… then, the doors start closing. The certitude of this newly discovered world gets cloudy as he’s slowly coming back into place, into his own life like a puzzle piece. As reality gets more and more familiar, recognizable, the one he knew for 19 years, the memories he closely identifies with, the people who love him, the idiosyncratic personality…

“I’m me now. I’m back” He reassures his girlfriend: he was acting scary while his mind was on the other side. His body did not follow. One can be having visions of eternal truth and beauty while drooling like a baby. Maybe that’s why “salvia” sounds so much like saliva.

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