Perhaps it’s the smattering of mouse DNA in me, but whenever I’m ill I keenly yearn to abscond to some cool, dark hole. Today, I have the strong desire for aphotic, near arctic conditions, so I fear some viral or bacterial invasion has already begun.
I don’t have time to be sick.
I’m already losing focus, having trouble concentrating on reality, inner thoughts and external stimuli blending into a confusing mix. I’d say it’s dream like but it’s too coherent. Like lucid dreaming while on drugs. My consciousness is brachiating, swinging from dendrite to dendrite on uncertain thoughts.
My arm is getting cold and I realize that over the noise of my computer fan and in-head chatter I can hear the wind pulling across the house. A moment and my pocket vibrates. Snow is finally coming. For all it’s usless warnings of fog or simply “weather” the app has made good for the rest of its days by declaring the snow burst to be a squall. I’ve never been in a squall before. The term seems romantic and adventurous. My arm gets colder, the windows have begun to shake. I can see a bright blob in the sky, the bit of vibrant blue that’s shrinking as a gray, black, solid thing crawls over the Blue Mountains.
Five minutes later and that blue patch is the narrow lid of sky seen from the bottom of a well. Traffic’s stopped. Not that the cars have parked, but that their flow is non-existant. They’re all gone, just me and the cold, and the wind, and the fast retreating sky.
Another few minutes and it’s all dark. Snow, the first snow of the year, is circling torrents horizontal past my window. The sun’s gone. I can’t hear the wind anymore because they’re no more breaks in it, it’s become an angry hum, constant and thus forgettable despite it’s fervor.
Well, I’ve got my darkness. I’ve got my cold. Now, if only my mind would clear up.