I Should Focus

Silence. Quiet, it is. There is nothing I hear. There is the sound of nothing. Thinking about it makes me shiver. Only yesterday, I’d heard the crows cawing in the middle of the night, the blades of the ceiling fan cutting through to air, and the rustling of leaves as they’d shift sideways. I wonder what happened next. Is it supposed to be vacuumed silence as it should be?

I look sideways, but I sense my body not responding. It’s only my head I can move. It is dark on all sides. I cannot see any shapes, or silhouettes. I turn my head sideways to my left, then right. But I see nothing. I can feel something on my face just below the nose, an itch I think. I try to get my palms towards my face, but I don’t sense anything. Is this a dream of some sort, I wonder.

I remember my dreams without difficulty, not for what they would consist of, but for the way I made my way from one place to another. There were times when I could hover above ground and fly at a slow steady pace. Not to forget about teleporting at different places as well wherever time was considered as a critical factor. And the wildest sensations for jumping off the balcony of my apartment where I lived and grew up.

Right now, it is more of the dream feeling than that of reality. I have forgotten what is real. Sometimes I consider my dreams as real as they could ever be. All my senses have developed within my dreams and work with incomparable detail over the surrounding environment. But for now I find them limited. Neither can I see, nor hear any sound. I try to look at myself, but all I see is darkness. It looks like there is nothing around but me. I don’t sense anything except for the pillow placed behind my head, and that I place its weight on it.

Something is missing, I think. It looks like a dream, but is it? I can feel my heart race at a faster-than-normal pace. My breathing feels normal as I inhale and exhale. The heat rushes through my head, but I don’t feel the same across my body. It’s cold everywhere. I may not sense it, but I feel it.

I start to concentrate on my body. I force myself into creating a displacement through space, no matter how small it is. My body doesn’t send me feedback. But I persist ahead to move myself. Nothing happens though.

I start to think what happened last night. I remember going to sleep. I remember it was half past three when I went to sleep. I was writing out a short story before. But I never felt sleepy. I had stared at the ceiling, listening to the crows and the wind outside. I remember the cold I had and had the mosquito net covered with a bed sheet to keep away from the ceiling fan that was switched for fast-blowing air. I couldn’t sleep for a long time. At least for an hour I suppose.

What had happened then? I try to recall from the depths of my memory. But it doesn’t give in, except for hazy lights moving around the room that night. Wait! There was something. Or rather someone. It was a black silhouette of someone, outside the window. And there was the source of light as well. I could see the light flowing through the bed sheet and hitting the wall lying on my right side.

Did I get out of my bed then? Had I checked out the window? I can’t remember. Not even a flash of it. I try to think harder than before, and I can feel the blood rush into my brain. The air surrounding me becomes cold. It’s as cold to see myself breathing out air which turns to mist if there was adequate light to see.

There is one last deed I can imagine of doing. I close my eyes, block all my fears out and start to meditate. I know I’ll have my answers soon. I try to reach out and pull myself up, away from my body. And that’s when I begin to focus.

The inspiration comes from the Introverts Blog Quietly Challenge. Feel free to go through other entries here: