Like things are.. I don’t know… different from how you’ve been told. Like they’re not really there – or if they are they’re certainly not as there as they should be. Like, you’ll be drying your hands and suddenly you won’t be able to really feel them drying at all. Your head starts, kind of, spinning, not in an unpleasant way but in a soothing, detached way. And you have to grab the towel harder just be sure it’s really there.
Jas, what the hell are you on about? You’re talking nonsense.
I guess it’s kind of like being drunk, but on dreams or life or – or darkness.
Wow, that’s… poetic.
You must know what I mean! Sometimes everything’s just out of focus and it’s like you’re seeing it under water or through tinted glass. And your thoughts don’t match up with what you’re seeing in front of you and everything has some kind of huge meaning that you can’t grasp and you don’t really want to and even when you’re in your own skin and touching the world around you you can’t be sure that it’s what it’s meant to be like and –
Sorry. I don’t really know what I’m saying.
That makes two of us.
But, like, look at the darkness. If you move your hand it has some kind of weird shroud and it’s almost as if it’s not your hand at all but just gifted to you by.. I don’t know what. And your thoughts seem distant from everything else. And you look up and just for a second you can’t believe that you are you and you’re here living this life, just making toast or reading or walking or lying in bed. And look at your bedpost, and the walls, and the trees outside and the stars – what stops them from just being printed on a postcard and propped on some endless canvas for us to see. Don’t you ever feel like that?