Part XVI - Stillness

You are captured by those moments when the light has been swept away by a magical spell called darkness. You are left alone in your crib for hours, with nothing to do but compromise with your condition. You can see your hands in front of you as they hold each other like frightened friends in a common dream. Through your mind plays the repeating messages that you are subjected to. You can feel the linen border on your comforter and it feels so soft that it becomes your protector when all is still and all you have is your muted consciousness. There are sounds off in the distance that appeal to you in some hard to understand reason. You cannot stop the tides of your senses as they continually fill your harbours and veins with the unexplainable.

The night is unending and you are sure that your tribe can be summoned if you wish to make it known that you are awake. However, you prefer to be left in this stillness for it has a comfortable feel to it. There is no beckoning, no specified ideals, no pieces of yourself being plucked away and no conditioning occurring. All you have to contend with is the meaning of all that is happening as your consciousness has been lulled to the point that your intellectual attention wavers with every new experience and entry of it into your expanding misunderstandings. Know that this is how you will be controlled, for misunderstanding needs to be silenced and it will be by some one else's interpretation.

You begin to chatter in a way that tells the others that you are content in your own presence. They read what you tell them themselves, for their interpretations have also been subjected to their needs to feel that your comfort is a reflection on their care for you. The circle of miscommunication has now been established and it will grow stronger as you are fitted into the available space that has been secured for you. In your mind you see it has nursing stations where you and the others suckle at the tits of confession because you have been taught with the fortification that your life depends on total compliance to the dispenser of the nutrition even though it may be toxic to your own consciousness.

The dancing shadows in your room play with each other in a game of tag or hide-n-go-seek, which one doesn't matter because their rituals are playful. Soon, however, they will become the monsters that circle your crib in menacing ways and unheard taunts. You may wimper now and then because fear slowly introduces itself in order to fasten on to that part of you which may remain ignorant for the entirety of your life. It will cut into you and the blood that runs from it will be a beckon for all those that need to secure themselves to you because they themselves have no strength to walk alone without the use of human crutches. You are left on your own to serve yourself with your own fashion of home cooking and your consciousness in its dulled condition is being force fed your own illusion.

The morning will come and the first voice that will greet you will say how good you've been for sleeping through the night without fussing. You are stapled to you crib by remarks such as this, because you are being made aware of the fact that all are separate individuals in the hours of sleep, but, that is only because the controllers need to rest themselves. Feel the warmth of the first one who lays you in their arms as they dislodge you from the rocket that casts you through the nights. You see your fading crib as you hang over the shoulder watching the past disappear the moments before you will be turned around and instantly asked to tie yourself into the present or what will be an invitation to the future. You are stranded on this island of forming conceptions.