Sunday, 15 July 2012

a little like drowning, and a little like flying

For as long as I can remember, I'd get this weird feeling every now and then.. I used to wake up panicked and sweating, breathing hard because for a moment it feels like everything stopped. Sometimes my mouth feels like it's filled with plasticine and no matter how hard I try to clamp my mouth shut, I just can't. There's a horrid taste in my mouth, and a cloying, sweet smell that I just can't stand.

It probably means something, and I should probably look it up, but it's been with me for so long that I've kinda gotten used to the whole thing. I never wake up in cold sweat over it anymore, and it has kinda lost its scary vibe. It used to mean that I'll have an awful week of trying to get rid of that smell that seems to somehow linger, and trying to convince myself that no, everything is fine, so hush. These days.. Not so bad. Oh I'll have a few days of feeling unsettled, a vague feeling of something left unfinished.. Of feeling a little sad, and lost, and a little like I'm drifting.. And then it'll be over. 

It's not an entirely unpleasant feeling. I don't know how to explain it. It's like when you're a little lost in your thoughts, in the middle of a crowded street. Or when you have headphones on, and the world feels a little disjointed because the mouths around you aren't saying the words you're hearing, and it's a little too bright outside because you're listening to a song that's perfect for a dark, stormy night.

Even if I look at the clock
I don’t have time, goodbye now
Even if I look at the calendar
I don’t have any memories now
I’m afraid I’ll be a book that no one reads
Music that no one listens to anymore
I’m afraid I’ll be abandoned like a movie playing in an empty theater

Even if I look at the phone

I don’t have any relationships now
Even if I look into the mirror
In there, there’s no confidence now

Tablo - Expired

1 comment:

colson said...

The first thing which came to mind I shamefully admit is that as a conscript soldier I had a few mornings I woke up a few times with that awful taste ( we used to call it: "the taste of dead babies") after a night of boozing. Which doesn't apply to the cases you described of course.

As for the dreams I immediately thought of the clocks in Ingmar Bergman's masterpiece "Wild Strawberries" ( And also vague associationns with Dali's "melting clocks". Very symbolic respectively Freudian interpretations of course.