The Disappearance of Consciousness
I came round to a gentle voice and a large yet distant clock mounted high on the wall. Three hours had passed. Or had they existed at all? Like a hydraulic switch, the cold fluid pushed up my vein seemed to turn me off, so that even dreams were not possible. It was as if, from that moment, I had never existed at all. As the lines became less blurred so did the pain in my abdomen, In places I did not know I could feel, places I'd never visited before. If only my mind knew the path to those places, perhaps it could have prevented the black spots growing? But perhaps the language of the mind is foreign in those parts and would not have been understood? The gentle voice handed me a button and told me to press it. "For the pain" it said, But each press brought only turbulence and the ejection of bile into a kidney shaped bowl. The pain was more bearable than the button, more constant and predicable. I don't know how I got back to my room But there I lay, with a glass of water just slightly out of reach and my mind unable to find a solution. The tree outside my window moved with the wind and captured my attention. Did the wind capture the trees attention? Was the wind aware of its influence? Or were they both just parts of a bigger whole that culminated in a different kind of consciousness?