Tuesday, December 23, 2014

Chapter 3 -

Our hero sat in his armchair at home, nestled by the fireplace. It was warm, waves of heat rolling out according to the pattern of burning flames. He dove into his mind. Once he was in, he began looking at the universe.

Am I dreaming? If I am, then it’s natural that I would feel strange things, and feelings. How do I check whether I am dreaming or not? … Pinching myself will not work, because I have felt a lot of pain in dreams before. Killing myself is also of no avail, because were I to be actually alive,  I would then become one of the dead.

Have I taken any behavior and mind altering medicine, liquids or drugs? I don’t think so; unless I  had another self who did it, and then transferred control to me. Or perhaps i might have lost my memory of taking some substance, and then consumed it.

So. It’s one of the three possibilities I concluded when I was walking. If it’s the third possibility, then I could be physio-psychologically affected by some consumable ( and have duly forgotten about it) or could be dreaming, enabling such sensations of being watched.

There are many questions, and so few answers. I must write what I know now, that I may examine it’s slant and contents later.

Wait a second.

This is not the first time I’m having this problem - might it be that I had written something like I planned to write now earlier and forgot about it?

He leaped from the armchair and sped around the room, adding to the mess by throwing around plates, books and papers as he searched them for any previously written material. He felt a sort of inclination towards the drawers below his desk, so he went there and ransacked it.

He found a black book. There was a label on it, with beautiful cursive writing.

It read You put the papers your wrote on earlier somewhere secret on purpose. He opened the book; there were scribbles ( and a few doodles ) everywhere. Unfortunately, he couldn’t understand the hand writing, even though it appeared to be his.

He began to think, both out of habit and necessity.

How do I find something that when I hid it, did it with the intention of the future me finding it hard to find?

In other words, if I was a book hidden with the intention of not being found, where will I be?

He scanned the room, hidden by itself in papers, industrial material and things he didn’t remember.

It would take forever to find it. It’s best if he began anew.

He selected a black book at random from his drawer and began writing, I feel like I’m being watched. Possible reasons considered include physiopsychological  causes, (that I’m dreaming, on some sort of drug), being surveyed or some sorcery. I could have taken the drug and forgotten about it, or was somebody else when the drug was taken.

He paused. I also found a book that said on it’s label that I had to search for another book  that was hidden on purpose, and which contained the previous items I had written.

Anything else? I don’t think so. He stopped writing, and was careful to not put the book away. He held it wherever he went, and put in his lap when he had dinner that night, and under his pillow when he slept.

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