Saturday, June 25, 2016

A Spider Bites

I had one of those dreams last night. It was a ferocious one, and something I had not experienced in a long time. The details, as they usually are with these ephemeral lives lived, have since evaporated. but the emotional scars remain, and that alone is worth talking about.

There I was, being hunted, somehow considered a traitor by my fellow citizens. How or why I cannot recall—my words of wisdom were drowned out by others' yelling—but the insidious feeling that enveloped me, like an acidic grip around my heart I can still remember.

I do believe that things had so fallen apart that there was a full-blown insurgency in our country. There was also a gun battle which, I think, we had just won. The air was still electric as I leaned up against some barrier with my hands. Out crawled a spider and bit my hand—ravenously. I tried to throw it off, smash it, and I managed to do so.

But the sting throbbed through my hand, and I woke up, trying my hardest to shake off the spider. It was gone. Or perhaps never there. And yet there I was, awake, and the pain of the sting still remained. Strong. I looked at between my thumb and forefinger, where the pain was focused, looking for a bite mark. I even used my phone light, certain that I had been victim to a real bite. But nothing. I looked throw the bedsheets for a spider, or a sharp object, but there was still nothing. My SO stirred, and so I turned off my phone light.

Oh the tricks the mind plays on you. And of all those tricks, this one seemed like an especially harsh one, as well as one I hadn't experienced in many years.

Except now that I'm older—the shadow of youth's expected invincibility long gone, the fossilization of my neurons a fact of life [1]—this experience seemed to breathe life into me.

It took a few minutes for the pain to die down. I rolled over, checked for spiders one more time and fell asleep.

[1]It's a mind I've gotten used to, one which enjoys rituals and can't absorb as much as it once could. It also means that I have to be wary of becoming like so many other adults I know: the ones who won't change their minds or their beliefs, no matter the evidence.

Good writing, huh? Share it via email, facebook, twitter, or one of the buttons below (or through some other method you prefer). Thank you! As always, here's the tip jar. Throw some change in there and help cover the costs of running this damn thing
Donate Bitcoins

No comments:

Post a Comment

Please comment to add to the discussion. Be kind. But let the democratic ideal lead you. And no spamming!