My fugue state continues though it's not troubling and probably is exactly where I need to be. An intense creative state is coming. I don't sense it directly, but I've become increasingly aware these past few days of the clean place it will eventually occupy. There are rhythms and cycles in this creative weirdness that are distinct and familiar, possibly because I've learned to watch and recognize them. Strange as it may sound, the best way I can describe the process is to picture the world in my head as just that---a world, a place with vast spaces, places very different one from the other. Those things I make are tokens, mementos.
Some spaces are indescribable.
I'm working on building strength for the rescue techniques--better breathing and efficient movements. Yesterday I swam just under the water's surface, studying the glassy plane a foot above and the space below where even the most familiar things obey different laws. Light is no exception.
Is it childish to become so lost in such simple things? Shades of blue, the taste of ice cream, a watch spring or the contours of a face can become places to explore with senses and thoughts and tools. I'd rather think of it as a childlike ability that most of us put aside for as many reasons as there are people who put it aside.
Some view these little journeys as insanity.
Sometimes little mental wanderings help me ease back into sleep. I've been waking at very nearly 3AM for many nights. Twice now, at exactly 2:59. Hmmm, I saw "The Exorcism of Emily Rose." So, last night, at 3:02, I wondered whether demons were aware of Daylight Savings Time, if they wore wristwatches, and if so, what kind. I imagined a particularly nasty demon tapping his claw, waiting because someone's bedside clock was slow. I thought of demons complaining that digital clocks don't tick, that sometimes every clock in a house is different and that they get sucked into watching reruns of MASH when people leave their sets on.
Then I fell asleep.
So...yes. This is my fugue state. Functional, yes. Little journey's that prepare me for larger ones. I can do laundry, answer emails and even write posts. I can sculpt and mail rats and such, but there's a sort of vibration, like distant sound underwater, that warns me to take some vitamins and clear my schedule, stock up on food and soak up some sun because sometime, not immediately and not too far off, I might go in.
Those of you who go in---you know. You know that in is vastly larger than out. At least the distances we can travel in our heads at present is far greater than the distance we can travel through space.
There's always the ever so slim chance of not returning.
So...better take a sweater.