2:47pm October 16, 2013

Slames and snarrels and prattice-mangers.

Those words completely chill my heart.

They’re words I heard in a dream, while delirious, in the hospital last February.

And they freak me out beyond all reasoning.

There’s a thing that happens, in delirium-dreams.

It’s slick, and slippery.  And it’s faded and grey.  And it’s terrifyingly nonsensical.  And it brings back memories of early childhood, always, for some reason.  And it feels intense and connected to something.  And yet also disconnected and nauseated and whirling and musical.

And it’s HORRIBLE.

But it also fascinates me at times, for reasons I don’t understand.

But those words bring back everything and it makes me fervently hope I’ll never come close to that again, whatever THAT is.  It makes me fear getting lost forever in some kind of cognitive whirlpool from hell.

I wish I could convey the feeling in those words, to anyone.  Anyone at all.  But I’m pretty sure it’s lost on anyone who wasn’t there.  And only I was there.  And that’s one of the most isolating things about the whole thing.

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