Fear. Ecstasy. Indifference.

I am terrified. I am ecstatic. I feel nothing.

I feel a sensation travel up my sternum. It is unidirectional. It traverses across my clavicle; further moving along my arms until it reaches my fingertips. I look at them; trying to understand what's happening. The harder I try, the more it eludes me.

Was I not standing? When did I sit? Why am I reclining? No no no, get up! Stand! Walk! Do something!

I get up. I laboriously take a few steps with hunched shoulders. I see a stringed instrument covered in a bag leaning against a tree. I walk toward it. I sit down; leaning my back against the tree. I unzip the bag and take out the guitar. I pluck the strings and am enthralled by the oscillations. How the fuck do you play this thing? I try to remember; try to make sense of it. The harder I try, the less I make sense of it.

I toss it aside and stand up again. I walk toward the stream. The green of the moss stands out against the green of the grass and trees.

The sensation comes back but in reverse. I stare at my fingertips. I see moving patterns. It travels up my arms, across my clavicle, and down my sternum. It stays there.

I feel the ground against my back. When did I lie down? Why is it dark? Do I have my eyes closed?

I see a tall perpendicular mountain that is threatening to fall on me. At the top of the mountain, I see a face that is looking maliciously at me.

Against the wall of the mountain, I see patterns in black ink against the light brown background. I try to focus on the black patterns. They take the shape of angry pharaoh gods.

I see the face at the top of the mountain and then the pharaoh gods, again.

I sense a faint rumbling. Is that a threat? The ground may open up and swallow me, at any instant. What the fuck is happening? I see the face and pharaoh gods again and notice the malicious grins stretched right across their faces. What the fuck is happening? How do I make sense of it?

No no, stop. Just stop. No words. No words; words are poison.

...

No words. Only sensation.

I turn my palms and brush them against the grass. No words; only sensation.

Are my eyes open? What's that I see? I open my eyes and I see a bird glide across the width of the mountain. Maybe it is a magpie but I can't be sure. It doesn't matter; that's just a word. What I see is not a word.

I sit up and see the stream in front against the backdrop of the moss against the backdrop of grass against the backdrop of the trees against the backdrop of the clear blue sky—against the backdrop of what? I don't know. Maybe it will reveal itself; maybe it won't.

I notice the trees lovingly gazing at me. The sound of the flowing stream sings my praises. The wind brushing against the grass dances to it.

I look up at the mountain and see kindly father figures quietly whispering, "You get on with it, we have got your back." All of a sudden, I feel the warmth of the sun.

I bask in the glow of love in all its glory.

I have my eyes open. It has vanished. All of it. I see nothing but lifeless objects that I can't even name. No love, no hate. No encouragement, no threats. Nothing but wiggly shapes.

Wait what? No, no. The pharaoh gods start to appear again. I smile and it transmutes into a kindly father figure. I take a deep breath and it turns into a wiggly shape.

Love. Hate. Indifference.

Fear. Ecstasy. Indifference.

The universe was created to curse me. The universe was created to praise me. The universe was created indifferent to me.