Half way across town the highway begins to swirl and shift. Reflections shimmer in bright neon. Patterns everywhere. Nothing solid. Street lamps arch to the pavement and where they touch the ground fireworks of color explode in all directions.
I make it back to my parent's driveway. I park my mother's car. It's still Sunday. Just barely. The houses are dark.
I am out of my body in an altogether unfathomable way. I am melting into the summer landscape. The most astounding beauty pulses through my cells. The magnificence of it all oozes out onto the dew damp lawn. The grass appears waist high and it's symphonic. A stereophonic chorus of night insect sounds turn my ears into speakers. I am broadcasting the event. Earth's vibration snake up through my legs and blast out the top of my head like the colored ribbon's of Aurora Borealis. Brightly pigmented trees and street lamps undulate wildly dipping toward the ground. A firefly's flash is a sunburst. Again and again and again in all directions. Asphalt rises and falls in cresting waves lapping my feet and swirling into them.
I am aware of the need to be perfectly silent as I meld and flow into the neighbor's house. I become the stairs, my hand passes through the wood door as I move toward the little bed in the corner of the tiny room they let me use. Sliding down to make contact with the white sheets I sink into and disappear into a marshmellow of softness.
This quick graphic done using Sumo This memoir began with the June 8 post and this chapter will conclude by August 21.