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At The Fringes Of My Imagination (Pt. VI)
By joseexist in Musings On Muses
November 19, 2009

At the fringes of my imagination I am playing with my comprehension of distance. It is a mental strain to attempt to perceive the target location but, the attempt is the basis for the exercise. There is no mental relaxation that I do for this. I just concentrate right off the bat. Two points are seemingly close enough to almost be one. I then mentally zoom in while keeping both in perfect focus and in place. As I zoom in I also scale up. The side effect of dizziness is easy to manage. Vertigo is a bit more difficult but not too much so. A point of threshold nears and the mental image begins to buffet slightly. Just past the threshold I enter uncharted territory. I push the limits of concentration and enjoy the pristine taste of the new. My mind’s eye splits in two. One looks back and causes part of the illusion to ripple almost out of control. The other maintains the course of transmogrification. Tension builds between the two in the form of synaptic feedback. They begin to switch internal views back and forth at an ever increasing speed. They bifurcate and compress. A tone explodes just within the highest frequencies of human hearing. The high decibel white-noise slowly drops in pitch like a whale carcass drifting into the abyss. A lifetime later it almost hovers forever at the lower limit of hearing. Then, it starts again from the top. The staccato scene-switching begins to take on a steady rhythm. The flashes produced are direct harmonics of the infra-ultra-tone. When the tone and the light exist at an even pace I mentally push myself the final distance and latch onto the second anchor point. The light sweeps a spectrum in conjunction with the sound. With one foot at home and one foot here everything trifurcates. I am home. I am there. I am here. I am halfway between both and looking both ways. Due to the orbit of the target world, I slowly unbalance. My right foot, calf, and thigh begin to twist unnaturally. I slip off and catch a few glimpses of civilization as I whiplash back to my singular self. The taste of things unknown permeates my mouth. My ears ring with the cries of aliens. My retinas are burned with the afterimage of strange colors and my olfactory bulb is still laughing almost uncontrollably with smells it cannot even begin to identify. I look up and the clouds have begun to creep back in. The stars are still shaking.