Stolen

I was in a room in a house in a room in my house.

Actually, I was two rooms into the inner house. I was staring into a mirror, trying to grasp at the essence of something just beyond my comprehension - something warm, wonderful, safe, and most of all - understanding. I was going to learn how to understand myself, and then - others.

I lowered my defenses completely, realizing that openness was the only way to
really accept the experience. It started to feel like I was standing in a soup comprised from a homogeneous mixture of my soul and some...other. I could perceive even the smallest fluctuation in my surroundings, and I inched closer to the mirror.

All of a sudden, the soup was sloshing all over the room in sick, disturbing waves. I could physically feel fear and distrust travelling in waves into my surroundings. A riotous disturbance right outside of the sanctuary - my sanctuary - was upsetting the balance inside, and as the waves began to crest a chunk of the ether vanished, as if it had suddenly become a cookie in the paw of cookie monster. I struggled to stay open - staying open was a mistake. The harder I tried, the more of me that vanished.

Soon, I was closed again - more closed than I had been before I started. I was clutching onto what remained, trembling, shying away from the tendrils of insecurity and mistrust which had been jealously gobbling at the byproduct of my intentions. The other was gone, too...

"I" was dead.

Not gone, or completely destroyed. But dead for the moment - connectionless, and lifeless. Burned out. A battery with a nonexistent voltage difference.


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No, I'm not going to interpret or contextualize ANY of that, beyond the following:
1. It is NOT an allegory for any specific event in my life (especially anything that happened within the last couple of months).
2. It is not the result of any sort of inebriation or intoxication.