Pandemonium

A distinct rapid beat starts building up in the background, tugging at the corners of my slumber. As I forget moment after moment that precedes it, it becomes more prominent; a nagging sound that rises in tempo. Chasing me as if it were a demon, deafening and irritating, swallowing me in its continuous chatter, like that of a thousand teenage girls' shrill screeching.

My finger interrupts the water flow, sending tiny splashes all around that collide with the porcelain sink and bounce up.

Cold.

Cold.

Cold.

Warm, finally.
I splash the water up, thawing my frozen face, eyes shut against the warmth. The next time I put my hands under the tap, formed into a bowl; the water's too hot. I pull my hands back, as if they are a cold crystal bowl that might suddenly crack and shatter under the heat. I gently push the tap towards the colder edge, the water following my demand, once again comes down Luke warm.

In a drugged haze I complete my daily rituals and step outside. I watch myself change in the dim morning glow. I am not inside. I sit at the edge of the bed watching myself slip on the socks and then the flat pumps on to my feet. Then as I stand before the mirror I join myself, watching, as I grab a kohl pencil dragging it underneath my eye, looking through half closed eyes, a blurred vision.

I am being called down, voices. Several ones float up to me. Bouncing against me and drawing back and then repeating their motion. It’s awful. I shut my eyes against the commotion as if losing sight of them dancing around me would lose their reality.

When I open my eyes it’s gone. The voices precede but visually they are no more. I look at myself, willing myself to move. It takes me a moment to realize that it’s gone too. I am no longer outside my body and I stand there staring at my reflection. My eyes rimmed with black. I stare dumbfounded at the mirror for ages before realizing it is me who ought to move. Regardless I look around me, searching for the self I won't find.

Foot before foot.

Left then right.

Left then right.
Then at some point I stop moving as if stuck in motion but the floor continues to move as if slipping underneath me like an escalator belt. And I stand there completely frozen. So sure of the floor's movements and those that are supposed to be mine.

I feel sick. I hold an apple in my hand and there's a teacup before me. What am I supposed to do? I put the apple gently on the table. It wobbles on its uneven bottom, threatening to fall on its side and roll off into the distance. It doesn't. It stays perched at an awkward angle. I peek inside the teacup; empty with a shallow rim of brown liquid at the bottom mocking me.

Someone comes up to me. As I look up from scribbling at the page before me their lips start moving, rapidly and their eyes follow suit. As if animated by their words and yet I hear nothing. Nothing, but the dull echo of white noise. Suddenly their eyes change looking at me curiously waiting for something. I am in an agony of my own. What am I to say?

And then I feel my lips move although I hear nothing but they smile and run off. I look down at the page before me partially filled with letters and words. Slowly they form an incoherent mess, drawing closer, in on themselves; an untidy mass that moves from the center of the page to the edges ready to leap at me.

My sudden movement causes the chair to clutter to the ground and the sound of the crash is so deafening as if it might tear apart my ear drums. Somehow, resembling the drag of nails against a wall. It draws to a screeching halt and I look at a sea of faces all lost in the confusion of the moment, eyeing me.

I run. The footsteps echo even in the crowded space. Cold sweat trickles down my forehead. Slowly sliding down as if in slow motion.

Drip.

The sound echoes. Droplets that fall and the sound rises in the silent atmosphere.

Drip.
Constant and badgering. Willing me to move and yet I don't. My legs, as if swollen and frozen solid. My eyes blink.

 

Darkness. 

Light. 

And then darkness again. 

My eyes flutter open. For a moment, I thought I'd forever be lost in it. Enveloping and welcome but hauntingly scary. I will them to stay open. Pictures play before me. Everything continues to jumble and unbundle before my eyes. A moving image put on repeat; weary and blurred. With darkness edging closer from its infinite ends. Closer, closer, closer.

A moment of peace. Silence. As if things are paused, voices suspended and then the nagging continues.

-Momina.