9:32pm October 16, 2013

And I swear…

“Slames and snarrels and prattice-mangers” will stand for EVERYTHING I can’t articulate about delirium-world and delirium-dream-world.  EVERYTHING.

A horrible world where I’m isolated from everything except swirling images heavily reminiscent of specific, ultra-familiar things from my childhood, but holding just out of my reach the identity of what those things WERE that they remind me of so much.

Except once.  Once I figured it out.  Something reminded me of a stool a child stood on in a book I hadn’t read since I was ten, and hadn’t read closely since I was five and younger.  Poems to Read to the Very Young.  It was black and one part of it had a brown face like a dog.  But there were no legs.  She was standing on it to drink from a water fountain or something like that.  But mostly I remember the dog-stool-thing.

Everything else had that same specificity but I could never, ever figure out what everything was pointing to, and it seemed so important and intense and confusing.

Even the words ~slames and snarrels and prattice-mangers~ keep dancing around in my head looking for meaning and familiarity and hitting nothing except that grey world I don’t want to be in.

What I don’t understand, is what is so damn alluring about finding out?  When there’s probably nothing to find out?  Delirium is not good, it’s not something to linger on, it’s BAD.  And yet sometimes my mind goes in circles trying to make sense of things like that.  Especially in dreams during relatively mild to moderate delirium, that seems to be the best time to make things like this happen.

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